Speeding Cars
by Literature Rogue
Summary: Santana Lopez left Lima and all its losers behind a long time ago. But something -or someone- is bringing her back again. Wading through their muddled past is hard, but it's a little better than their separate present.
1. prologue

**Author's Note: **So, I couldn't help it. This is another story that will focus primarily on the Puck/Lopez dynamic. There will be some Finn in here, too, and probably a little bit of Brittany later on. Anyway, this is a little different from my last story as this is going to be chaptered -and not just snapshots into their past. So we'll see how this works out. I'm excited for the story and I hope you guys like it, too. Oh, title of the story and the chapter titles are from Imogen Heap's _Speeding Cars, _which was the inspiration for this story. So, here we go!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. I am only responsible for their fictional corruption.

* * *

"You really should go home, you know."

"Once I finish organizing these case files…"

"You know, there's this new thing called a _computer_…" Her secretary, Juliet, sighs loudly. "Santana, you're working yourself right into a hole. You're twenty-six years old and already one of the biggest lawyers in-"

"-in _Cleveland_," she grumbles, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. To be fair, she hadn't wanted to be too far away from her family, but Cleveland wasn't the most glamorous place to work. And the cases she got were mostly custody battles between divorcees. It never stopped reminding her of _him_ and his fucked up family situation, but Santana Lopez is a hotshot lawyer now. She doesn't think about him, or most of the people in that cow town, very much at all anymore.

Well, other than Brittany. But they've got an apartment together, so it'd be pretty weird if she didn't think about her blonde best friend. "San," Juliet whines, and that nickname always reminds her of him, too. She closes her eyes briefly and her companion chuckles softly. "Please promise me you'll go home, though? If I get another call from your worried roommate…"

"I'll be home before sunrise, Juliet."

Juliet seems to believe her since she just nods and heads out of her office. Santana breathes out a sigh of relief once she's gone, leaving her with the peace and quiet of her dimly lit office. Several stacks of paper are scattered around the room and she busies herself with organizing them –first by year, then by month, then alphabetically. Her cell phone vibrates in her pocket and she pointedly ignores it. It's probably Juliet from the parking lot telling her to leave again. Or Britt. But she knows not to call her while she's at work.

Santana's eyes flick toward the clock. It's already really dark outside –which isn't hard, considering she's in Ohio and it's December. But Brittany will worry if she's not home by seven. She's still got an hour, though. She can finish organizing the files.

Her phone vibrates angrily just a second later, and she snatches it, glaring down at the little screen and expecting to see Brittany's name and number flashing there. Instead, it's an unfamiliar number and Santana hits the _ignore _button. If they really wanna talk to her, they'll leave a message. They don't, so it must not have been that important.

As Santana's stacking folders in the cabinet behind her desk, her office phone rings. "Damn it, do people not know the meaning of business hours?" She reaches for the phone anyway and, cradling the receiver between her ear and shoulder, says, "Santana Lopez speaking," in a bright voice that doesn't betray her annoyance. She's always been a pretty good actress.

"San?" For a brief moment, she thinks it's him and she drops the folder she's holding. The papers spill onto the floor and she swears loudly. But that's not his voice. It's not raspy and the person on the other end sounds worried. She hardly remembers him being worried, ever. "It's Finn Hudson." What. The. Fuck.

"…I hope to _God_ you're not looking for a booty call, quarterback."

He laughs but it's short and nervous, just like she remembers when they were kids. It's nice to know some things never change. "Um, no. Actually, I'm calling about Puck."

Santana's first reaction is that it's really stupid that he still goes by Puck when they're twenty-_fucking_-six years old. Puck is a high school name. He should go by an adult name now. But then she remembers that her once best friend is named after his deadbeat dad and thinks _Puck_ isn't so bad. She rakes her fingers through her hair because she hasn't seen him since his sister's graduation. And even though they'd had awkward encounters throughout college while their families spent time together, it was never the same. Finally finding her voice, Santana asks, "What about him?"

"Do you have a TV where you are right now?"

Santana thinks Finn Hudson sucks at getting to the point. "No. I'm in my office. Just explain, Finn."

He breathes out loudly when she says _Finn_, like that's the magic word to get him to talk. "There's been an accident. He's in the hospital and not awake. His mom's a wreck and I'm trying to help out but she's asking for you." Santana is silent for a long moment. Mrs. Puckerman had practically been her second mother growing up and she felt she owed her something. That didn't mean she owed her son anything. She didn't owe Puck anything at all. They'd stopped owing each other a long time ago.

"How bad is it?"

"Bad. He's been out for a day."

She inhales sharply through her teeth, debating with herself. She really, _really_ doesn't wanna go back to Lima. She left that town –and everyone in it- behind years ago. But at the same time…"When did you get in?"

"I was on his emergency contact list, since we live in the same city. I was the first one here. But, seriously, Santana. Mrs. P's freaking out. We're at Mercy Hospital in Columbus."

Santana rubs her temples. "I'll be there as soon as I can." She hangs up without waiting for Finn's response. Brittany's gonna be annoyed that she won't be home for dinner after all. Leaving her unorganized files where they are, she grabs her coat and car keys and sets off. Juliet will be glad she's getting out of the office, though. So at least someone will be happy.


	2. more than just bad luck

**Author's Note: **This is where things get interesting. Just to make things easier, regular text is in the present and _italics_ are in the past. I'll try and use page breaks to make it easier for you.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. I am only responsible for their fictional corruption.

* * *

**1.**

"No. Listen. I'm looking for _Noah Puckerman_." Santana is standing at the desk in the lobby of Mercy Hospital in Columbus. She looks harassed, her hair a mess and her eyes narrowed dangerously at the woman behind the desk who keeps shaking her head and saying _I'm sorry, honey, but no one by that name appears to be…_Santana never lets her finish because she glares at her in that head cheerleader way she's never quite lost. "I know for a fact he's here. So if you could _please_ just-"

"Santana!" She turns around automatically at the sound of her name and her stressed expression fades just a little bit. Finn Hudson is walking towards her looking every bit as abnormally tall as he had on graduation day. He's grown some facial hair and looks a little older and world worn. He's still scared shitless of her, though. She can tell by the way he rocks back and forth on his heels as he comes to a stop in front of her. "Uh. Hey."

Santana lifts one perfectly groomed eyebrow at him and she feels a strong sense of déjà vu. She feels like they're in high school again and she's the bitchy cheerleader and he's just another boy. "Well?" When Finn just stares at her dumbly she rolls her eyes. "Where is he?"

"Oh!" Finn grabs her arm and tugs her along a few steps before he realizes what he's doing. Then he drops her arm like he's burned and gives her a wide-eyed stare. Santana meets his stare with a sideways glance, and when he realizes she's not going to snap at him, Finn jerks his head toward the elevator. "He's in room 2204."

They stand side by side in the elevator and it should probably be awkward. After all, their mutual once best friend is in a coma or something. And to make things worse, she's the one who stole his virtue in their sophomore year. Santana can't stand the silence anymore so she breaks it. "So, are you and Berry still…?" Maybe that was rude. She probably should've started out with the weather or something, but Santana Lopez had never been great with small talk.

Finn's smiling faintly, though, so she's not too worried he'll burst into tears and tell her all about their horrible breakup. "Rachel and I are getting married." He's grinning so wide now that Santana is wondering how his face isn't splitting. And she's also surprised. Most of those high school relationships don't hold up. Berry's a little crazy, but she guesses Finn always looked kind of happy with her. His expression falters a little when he sees the wrinkle in her forehead. "Sorry…"

Her walls are up instantly. "About what? Being happy? Please. I'm sure a life with Rachel Berry is gonna make you just as miserable as I am." Santana laughs though it's an echo of her usual one. Finn doesn't know her well enough to recognize this, though, and laughs halfheartedly at her joke.

The elevator doors ding open and Santana is practically suffocated by a bear hug. Finn catches her shoulders from behind and steadies her. "Santana, my Noah isn't waking up." Mrs. Puckerman is clinging to her for dear life and Santana hugs her back tightly. She's a complete wreck. "I know he'd want to see you, though, if he was…"

Santana sighs softy, thinks _don't be so sure_ . What she _says_ is "Where is our idiot?" Puck's mom is still holding onto her tightly as they awkwardly make their way down the hallway. She's sniffling and holding a Kleenex tightly in a fist as they enter the doorway. She's stopped, but Santana takes a step farther into the room. As soon as she does, she wishes she hadn't.

Puck looks pretty much the same as he did in high school even down to the ridiculous mohawk. She figures it's because of his badass line of work. Too bad that work got him in here in the first place.

He looks the same, but so _not_. For one thing, her best friend Puck didn't have bandages up one side of his face from what she can only assume are burns. He was never one to show weakness and he wouldn't be laid up in bed like that. And, even that time he fell off his skateboard and had to get stitches, she's never seen him hooked up to all those machines. Santana stops dead in her tracks, a fist pressed firmly to her mouth. "Oh my God," is all she can really think to say for a second. The only sound in the small room is the steady beep of Puck's heart monitor. That's reassuring. At least he's not dead.

After a couple more seconds of staring, Santana snaps back to reality and into her practical, lawyer self. "Teresa," because she stopped calling her _Mrs. Puckerman_ when she was thirteen and stopped calling her _Ma_ (like Puck) after graduating high school. It's still just a little weird. "Maybe you should go…" Seeing the defiant look that matches the one Puck used to wear a lot in high school, Santana changes her thought midsentence. There is no way Mama Puck is going home when her baby is in the hospital. "…to a hotel or something. Get some sleep. Finn will take you."

Finn looks confused for all of two seconds before shrugging and offering Mrs. Puckerman his arm. "Yeah, Mrs. P." For some reason, Santana finds it hilarious that Finn still calls her _Mrs. P_. It's kind of cute and a little stupid since they're all adults now. The laugh that escapes her lips is kind of hysterical from being tired and overwhelmed. Finn gives her a look and Santana shrugs it off. "I'll take you."

"I'll stay with him," Santana assures his mother, already dragging the chair closer to Puck's bed. "Don't worry. I won't leave his side." She knows she wouldn't want to wake up in some creepy, unfamiliar hospital without anyone she knew. She'll stick around until they get back in the morning.

Mrs. Puckerman looks like she wants to argue, but between Finn's soft eyes and Santana's determined stare, she has no choice but to agree. So she nods and takes Finn's arm and he programs his number into Santana's phone before leaving. Then, she's left alone with Puck. Under any other circumstances, she'd be freaking out. Inside, she still sort of _is_, but not for the same reason. She's not worried about how he's going to react to seeing her again after several years. She's just worried about him.

Except the prospect of not having to talk to him right away is kind of a relief. Santana sinks down into the chair beside his bed and pulls her knees up so she can sit Indian style. Resting her elbows on her knees, she stares at him. She's allowed to, since no one is here to watch her. He looks…younger somehow. Innocent. It's driving her insane and so she glances off to the side. "Puck, I don't know how you get yourself into these things." She knows that talking to a person in a coma isn't really productive, but it's too quiet in this room, even with the methodic beep of his heart monitor. "Your mother and Finn are worried sick."

Without really noticing she's doing it, Santana's leaning forward in her seat. One of Puck's hands, the one where the IV is connected, is outside of the blankets. She takes it in hers and is surprised by how _cold_ it is. Brown eyes flick up towards the monitor accusingly, but it's still beeping away. Absently, Santana rubs his hand between both of hers, trying to warm him up a little. "I'm worried, too," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she's afraid to admit it out loud. She knows it's stupid. He probably can't even hear her. And even if he can, he won't _remember_ it when he wakes up.

_If _he wakes up.

Her heart clenches at the thought. His Ma will be a mess if he doesn't. His sister, who's at college right now and texting her frantically, will probably drop out. Finn won't have a best man for his damn wedding. And her? Well, Santana will be right next to Mrs. P on the couch, crying and watching _Eurotrip _because it's Puck's favorite movie.

"You better pull out of this, dumbass," she says, giving his hand a hard squeeze. He doesn't flinch –not like he would if he was awake- and Santana closes her eyes. "Or I'm gonna kill you myself."

* * *

_"But Mami," four-year-old Santana complains, digging the heels of her little Mary-Janes into the ground and tugging at her annoying skirt. "I don't wanna go! It's boring!" Her mother just sighs and tugs her daughter along by the wrist. They're on their way to their new neighbors' house and she's holding a platter of her infamous chocolate chip cookies._

_"If you're good," she says, looking down at her squirming daughter. "You can have one of my cookies."_

_Santana stops struggling almost immediately, dark eyes narrowing. "Just one? I want three cookies."_

_Her mother laughs and shakes her head. "You have to save some for the Puckermans, mija." Santana thinks that's probably the weirdest name she's ever heard. What the heck is a Puckerman anyway? "You know, I think they might have a little girl about your age…" Santana's eyes get all wide._

_"Really?"_

_"I think so."_

_"Wow."_

_It doesn't take long to get to the Puckermans'. Their backyard leads into the Lopezes', so the walk only takes a few seconds. Her mom rings the doorbell and a nice looking lady wearing an apron answers. "Hi. I'm Elena Lopez and this is my daughter…Santana?" Said daughter is hiding behind her left leg and Elena tugs her around to look at their neighbor._

_"Nice to meet you! I'm Teresa Puckerman. Noah's around here somewhere…" She looks back into the house and frowns a little. "Noah Isaiah! We have company!"_

_Santana is frowning. Noah isn't a girl's name. Noelle is. Nicole is. Noah is a boy's name. Said boy pops up behind his mother, all shaggy hair and a mischievous grin. He's hiding something behind his back and rocking from one foot to the other. "Noah, say hello to Mrs. Lopez and her daughter, Santana."_

_Four-year-old Noah sticks his tongue out at her and says, "Daddy listens to someone named Santana on the radio." Santana frowns and looks up at her mother with an expression that quite clearly says that is not a girl my age._

_Elena just shrugs. "Do you need help with anything?"_

_Mrs. Puckerman is saying something, but Santana's too busy watching her weird son shift whatever he's holding to his front. It's then that she realizes he's holding a Gameboy. It's such a boy thing. She rolls her eyes at him and he sticks his tongue out. Neither of their mothers notice her expression, but Mrs. Puckerman catches her son. "Noah! I took that video game away from you!" The little boy has the decency to look mildly guilty, but the little, devious smirk still breaks through._

_"Sorry," Noah says, but his smirk says I'm getting that back later. His mother takes the Gameboy from him and he pouts a little. Santana thinks he's being stupid._

_"Why don't you show Santana your room, Noah?" Both children look absolutely turned off by the idea. Noah's sizing the girl up and Santana's got her arms crossed and is looking defiantly away from him._

_But Mrs. Lopez nods vigorously and nudges her daughter forward. "Go on, Santana!"_

_She hesitates for a second and Noah stays put. A look from his mother has his shoulders slumping and he slouches off towards the stairs. "Come on," he grumbles. Santana doesn't need to look behind her to know her mother is wearing the very same exasperated expression that Mrs. Puckerman is. So she goes without a fight, almost stumbling on the steps because someone left a skateboard there. Noah turns around in time to grab her arm and save her from plummeting to her death (or, less dramatically, a broken arm). "Jeez! Be careful." He knows his Ma would kill him if he accidentally killed the neighbors' daughter. Seriously._

_"If you wouldn't leave your stuff on the stairs-"_

_Noah rolls his eyes, lets go of her arm, and walks off to his room muttering "You sound like my mother."_

_"Do not!" Santana argues, stopping in the doorway to his room and leaning against the frame. It's decorated all like outer space from the Star Wars sheets down to the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. "Nice. My room's pink."_

_Noah snorts. "Great."_

_Santana doesn't miss the sarcasm. She juts her little hip out and purses her lips. "What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"Pink's for girls."_

_"I am a girl. See the dress?" She spins around as if to emphasize the point. Noah blinks at her._

_"Oh." He turns on the TV. Santana's not pleased that he's not giving her any attention, so she marches over to him and is about to turn off the television when she notices what's playing on the screen._

_After a second of The Circle of Life, she turns on him with a wide-eyed stare. "…is this The Lion King?" Noah looks vaguely annoyed as he flops down on his bed._

_"Yeah." He shifts a little in his place and fixes Santana with the best glare he can manage at four years old. It's not much. "Why?"_

_She shrugs a little before sitting down beside him. "Nothin'. It's only my favorite movie."_

_Noah's eyebrows raise so far they're lost in his shaggy hair. "Me, too." They share a little smile before Scar pops up on screen and then they're both quiet._

_When their mothers come upstairs to check on them two hours later, the pair of them are curled up on Noah's bed and halfway through Beauty and the Beast (Santana's choice, obviously). "Santana?" Her mother asks softly, poking her head into the dark bedroom. They're both awake, but neither child turns their head when she speaks. "Time to go, honey."_

_"Awe," both Santana and Noah complain. They share a glance and a shy little smile before looking back towards the TV._

_"Santana…"_

_"But Mami!" Santana sits up and disentangles her arms from Noah's. "I don't wanna!" Her mother exchanges a frustrated-but-amused look with Mrs. Puckerman._

_Noah sits up, too. "Can't she stay, Ma?"_

_"She can come back tomorrow if she wants. Say goodbye, Noah."_

_Seemingly satisfied, Noah nudges his new friend's shoulder. "Later, San."_

_"Bye, Noah."_

_She goes back tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after…_

* * *

She jerks awake because something's squeezing her hand. Tightly. As she blinks away the dream (memory?) and the blurred vision, Santana realizes that it's not some_thing_ squeezing her hand, but rather some_one_ squeezing her hand back. Puck's squeezing her hand so hard she thinks he might break it. "Jesus, Puck," are the first words out of her mouth. She's straightening up and fixing him with a long look. He looks…confused.

And bruised. But mostly confused. The one eye she can see because it's not covered by bandages is staring at her, narrowed in a suspicious sort of way. Puck drops her hand but says nothing, moving his left hand to the right side of his face, which is completely bandaged. He pulls his right arm out of the blankets and stares down at the cast. Santana hadn't realized he'd broken his fucking arm _again_. Actually, she didn't even know how he'd managed to get here in the first place. "How do you feel?"

He rakes his fingers through his hair and that makes her smile slightly because that's an old habit of his he's never quite grown out of no matter how little hair he has. Puck sighs and licks his dry lips, finally coming up with a stereotypical "Like shit." His voice is rough and raspy from lack of use.

"You don't look so good, either." Relief colors her words. She's so glad he's okay. And now that he is, Santana figures she can get back home by tomorrow night at the latest. Just because she came here doesn't mean she wants to stay. It doesn't look like he's really gonna need her anyway. After all, he's got his Ma and Finn. Puck never needed a lot of people to be okay. He'd be fine.

Puck's staring blankly at her. She stares back, one eyebrow raised in question. She has no idea what he's thinking, so she just leans back in her chair. "I better call your Ma. She'll be glad to know you're awake." She's already reaching for her cell phone when Puck finally seems to find his voice again.

"I'm sorry," he says, and he actually sounds like it. Which is weird on its own. Then he finishes his thought. "Who the hell are you?" Oh. _Awesome.  
_


	3. sleeping pills, no, sleeping dogs lie

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the slight delay. I had a bit of writer's block trying to decide where Santana and Puck were in the present. I knew which flashback I wanted to include but wasn't sure what to have them doing now. Hopefully it's not too choppy or out of place.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. I am only responsible for their fictional corruption

* * *

**2.**

Santana and Finn are in the waiting room across from Puck's. The doctor had insisted, multiple times, that only family could be present when discussing Puck's condition. And no matter how many times Teresa insisted that Santana was her daughter and that she was engaged to Finn (yeah_ right_), the doctor hadn't bought it. It didn't help that Puck kept sitting up and saying _I have never seen either of those people in my life_. Not that that was a particularly reliable source to base anything on, since he'd hardly recognized his own mother, but it was annoying all the same. So they were forced to stare at each other and eat bad cafeteria food.

She felt sick herself, though, so only Finn was passing his vending machine sandwich from one hand to the other. He'd only taken one bite before feeling knots turn himself, so he was just keeping it for something to do with his hands. He kept_ looking_ at her and Santana thinks he looks worried or something. That's just stupid. It's not like she'd ever really been particularly close to Finn Hudson. Sure, she'd taken his virginity when they were sixteen and they'd been acquaintances since grade school, but they'd never been _friends_. They were friends-of-friends. Both of them were close to Puck, but that was as close as they got.

"Maybe you should stop pacing…" Santana gives him her infamous glare and he falls quiet almost immediately. She turns on her heel and her gaze flicks up to the news station playing overhead. The reporters are babbling on about some cute, happy human interest story, but the scrolling words at the bottom of the screen say _local school set ablaze; three killed and fourteen injured. _Santana stands on her tiptoes and tries to reach the power button, but someone at the hospital thought it was really freaking funny to mount the TV practically on the ceiling. Finn reaches over her head to turn it off and Santana makes a noise deep in her throat between a growl and _thanks_. He shrugs and goes to sit down again.

"What the fuck _happened_, anyway?"

"Oh, yeah," Finn says, raking his fingers through his hair. "I was gonna tell you." He takes a breath and watches her carefully for a few seconds, like he's worried telling her will just piss her off more. Santana's pretty sure he's right, but the raised brow and scowl force Finn to speak anyway. "It was that fire at the school. Puck was on the engine that responded to it. Well, some kids were trapped up on the third floor and he ran up there with a couple guys. He went in and out like seven times or something…"

Finn notices how Santana's eyes are narrowing farther with each word. He hesitates for a beat before continuing but she looks like she's gonna hit him in the face if he doesn't finish. "Well, he and a buddy were breaking down doors and checking for survivors. They found a little girl trapped in a room and Puck, like, forced himself in there. Got hit by a burning beam and knocked out. His pal Dave saved the kid, though, and got him out so…"

Santana snorts out of her nose. He was enough of an idiot to get hit in the head by a caved in ceiling. "His mom _told_ him not to become a firefighter." Actually, _she'd_ also told him about fifty times not to go into such a dangerous line of work, but he was _Puck_. He thought the whole thing was totally badass and if he couldn't be a professional football player like he'd wanted to when they were twelve, he could at least do something cool. Plus, it wasn't necessary to go to college. He took a couple classes at the local community college for two years before moving to Columbus and starting work.

"I'm going to have a smoke," she says, reaching into her back pocket for the pack of Camels and her lighter. "Call me if anything happens." Finn looks like he wants to say something about her habit, but his jaw's clamped shut and he just shrugs. She heads to the parking garage and lights up, breathing out in a sigh and watching the smoke billow from the end of her cigarette.

She never used to smoke. Well, actually, sometimes she'd take a drag or two off of Puck's cigarette if she was stressed and she'd often get a mouthful of his ashtray breath when they kissed, but it had always been _his_ habit, not hers. Once they broke things off and her classes at school got harder and harder, she took to the habit. Santana always told herself it was just stress relief, but every time she lights a Camel she thinks about how it was _his_ brand in high school. It was like she was keeping a piece of him in some stupid way. It was kind of comforting, somehow.

"Santana?" She whips her head around, ready to snap at Finn, but then she realizes it's actually Mrs. Puckerman and she bites back the snark and offers her a half-smile. Her surrogate mother probably knows how forced it is, but if she notices, she doesn't say anything. Puck's mom always had known her. She could read Santana almost as much as her son could. Or, well, _used to_. "Sarah's flying in to see her brother and Finn's going to take me to pick her up. Could you…?"

Santana closes her eyes and rubs at the mounting headache with two fingers. She knows what Teresa means. She wants her to sit with Puck until they get back. She's not sure if she can do that, sit with the boy she's known since age four and make small talk because he doesn't know her. It's a consolation that he hadn't recognized Finn either, but it still sucks. "I can drive you to the airport and Finn can stay with him."

Mrs. Puckerman smiles sadly. "Actually, Noah asked for you." Santana's eyebrows raise in an unasked question, like _he remembers?_ Mrs. Puckerman shakes her head a little, sighs loudly. "Well, he asked for _the hot chick with Huck Finn _actually…" Santana tries to ignore the way Teresa uses air quotes where he's said something because, God, that's such a _Puck_ thing to say.

She takes a deep drag of her cigarette before letting it fall from her lips. She stomps it out with a sneaker and slumps back into the hospital. "Fine." Santana has always had a soft spot for Mrs. Puckerman –and a bigger one for her son- so it's kind of inevitable. "Did they give him any drugs?" She asks hopefully. If he's asleep, she might not want to knock some sense into him as much.

"Some morphine." Great. So he'll be high. "But they gave him a sedative, too, because the burns are pretty painful…" Santana winces. If he hadn't gone and forgotten everything, she would've felt really bad for him. She knows it wasn't his fault, but he'd still decided to go running in all white knight style instead of waiting for backup. Idiot.

When she walks into his darkened room, he's passed out. That's good. It's easier to pretend he's just sleeping and that the whole amnesia thing had been a dream. Santana sinks down into the chair beside his bed and yawns widely. She's tired, too, from working all day and then driving here. As she watches Puck's seemingly serene face despite the injuries, she finds herself drifting off, too.

If she's honest with herself, her best sleep always happened next to Noah Puckerman. She kind of hates that she falls asleep so quickly, but she'll chalk that up to pure exhaustion. It's definitely not because of his familiar snoring. That would just be pathetic.

* * *

_It's pouring down rain outside, but he's completely oblivious. This is nothing compared to the storm that had just raged inside his house. His Ma and Pop had been fighting (again), but this time, it had gone too far. His dad had called his mom a word that had made her cry and she'd gone upstairs. And then his Pop had looked at him and said "If it wasn't for you, I never would've married her in the first place." And then he'd just packed his stuff up and left without a word. He'd tried to ask his mom if daddy was coming home, but she'd been crying and his Gran had come over to take care of the baby._

_He couldn't take it in that house anymore with his Ma crying and his sister crying and his Gran saying "I knew that Puckerman was a bad egg." So, like any time when bad stuff happened, little Noah Puckerman ran to the Lopez house. It took a little more effort to scramble over the fence that separated their yards tonight, and his sneakers sank in the mud as he ran, but Noah was determined to get away from his own house, at least for a little while._

_He stops outside the back door and peers into the kitchen. Her mom is doing the dishes. If he's quiet, he might be able to sneak in without her noticing. So Noah stoops down to get the spare key from under the welcome mat and slips it into the lock. The door is silent as he pushes it open and he slips inside. His shoes squeak against the tiled floor and give him away and when Mrs. Lopez turns to look at him, her surprised expression fades to worry. "Noah! What are you doing here, honey?"_

_Noah sniffles a little and brushes damp hair from his eyes. "Nothin'. Is Santana home?" Mrs. Lopez glances towards the stairs and Noah shifts awkwardly on the spot, his clothing dripping water onto her floor. The phone rings and Santana's mom holds up a finger to tell him to wait. He really just wants to go upstairs and talk to his best friend, but he stays because he figures trailing water up the stairs wouldn't be the best idea._

_"Yes, he's here, Teresa." Noah sighs. Of course it's his Ma. She's probably worried out of her mind, but she knows where to find him. He'd either go to Finn's or Santana's, but Finn's place is all the way across town. And, besides, if he does cry, he doesn't wanna do it in front of Finn. Mrs. Lopez is quiet for a long time, and Noah thinks his mom is telling her about daddy. He sniffs again and wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, hoping she wasn't looking. "He's welcome. Don't worry. I will. Bye."_

_Mrs. Lopez's eyes are soft. "Come on, Noah. I'll get you a towel and you can go on upstairs…" She wraps him up in a fluffy, blue towel and it stops his shivering. He leaves his wet sneakers at the door before following Santana's mother up. She knocks on the door and enters first. "Santana? Noah's here…"_

_Santana looks up from the picture she's coloring, eyes bright. "Really? Why so late?" Her mom is quiet and Noah shuffles into the room, looking at the floor. Santana is surprised at his appearance, soaking wet and with hair plastered to his forehead. His cheeks are wet, too, even though he's got a towel. "Oh…hey…"_

_"I'm going to make some hot chocolate, okay?"_

_Neither child says anything, but Mrs. Lopez makes her exit quietly. Noah's still hovering in the doorway and she's staring at him with wide-eyed curiosity. "What's wrong?" She can tell. She always can._

_He looks at his socks and says to the floor, "My daddy left tonight." Santana's eyebrows pull together. It's not something an eight-year-old can understand. Why would a parent leave? If her Papi left, she's not sure what she'd do. She doesn't really know what to say, so she just walks up to him and pulls him into a hug. Normally, Noah's kind of opposed to this sort of thing (their class has just found out about cooties), but he just kind of sinks into her and sighs, getting his arms around her, too._

_He's taller than she is, but Noah's got his head tucked into the crook of her neck so she won't see him cry. Best friend or not, his Pop had always said that boys don't cry. He doesn't want her to think he's a baby or anything. Santana knows he's crying, hears his breath hitch, but says nothing except, "I'm sorry, Noah." She has no clue what else to say to him._

_"He just left," he mumbles, his voice shaking a little. Noah takes a deep breath and draws back after wiping at his eyes with the towel that's wrapped around him. "Crap. I got you all wet."_

_She shrugs. "It's okay. These clothes need washed anyway." She offers him a tentative smile. He smiles back, but it's not a real smile. He's trying to make her think he's okay, but he's really not. Santana can tell. She always does._

_"…I think I'm gonna stay here tonight." He doesn't wanna go back home where people are crying and his Gran is talking bad about his dad. It's safer here. Quieter._

_Santana nods. "We can have a sleepover."_

_He doesn't point out that boys don't have sleepovers. He just sinks down on the floor and she sits down beside him and he leans against her. When her Mami comes in about a half an hour later, he's actually asleep against Santana, his face buried in her shoulder. Santana holds up a finger. "Shh. Noah's sleeping."_

_She falls asleep not long after._

* * *

When he wakes up from a dizzy sleep, she's still asleep beside him, except she's half in the chair and half in his bed, her arms draped over him and with her head propped upon her crossed arms. He smiles a little because he thinks he _sort of_ remembers her. That weird dream (memory?) was somehow connected to her. He thinks. Maybe it's just the drugs and he's imagining things.

She stirs a little and groans, jerking awake but not moving off of him. She just grabs her cell phone and stares down at the display. _One new text message from FINN_. Santana growls and reads the message. _sarahs flight delayed. went back to hotel because mrs p fell asleep. be back 2morrow. _Ignoring the fact that Finn Hudson still texts like a teenager, Santana groans loudly. Now she's stuck with Puck until whenever Sarah's plane gets in. _Great_.

"What's up?"

"Jesus Christ!" She jumps a little when he speaks and she's back on her chair instead of resting against him. How long had he been awake and watching her sleep? That creeper. Some things never changed. "What the hell, Puck? Anyway. Your Ma and Finn will be back tomorrow. Sarah's plane hasn't left yet."

He looks thoughtful, his eyebrows pulled together. "Why do you and that guy keep calling me that? Name's Noah." Santana gives him a blank stare that says _you've got to be fucking kidding me_. But Pu..._Noah_ just arches his eyebrows at her in curiosity. "You're…Santana, right?"

"_Everyone_ calls you Puck," she mumbles, feeling like she hardly knows this person with Puck's face and Puck's smirk and Puck's laugh when she says that. "They have since high school. You don't like being called Noah because of your d-" Santana pauses, because she doesn't know if he remembers. And she sure as hell doesn't want to be the one to drop that bomb.

Noah blinks. "Yeah, my dad's an ass." She hears the contempt in his voice and sees the spark in his eye and that kind of gives her hope. Even if he doesn't remember Puck, he remembers that his dad was a deadbeat. A wrinkle creases his forehead. "You were there the night he left, weren't you?"

Santana licks her lips and he bites his because that's hot. "Uh, yeah. I was there." This is weird. She doesn't know what to say, and that's kind of a first when it comes to Puck. They've always been so close that she can just be blunt with him because he's always been that way with her. But this is _Noah_, not _Puck_, and he's not as badass and experienced in life as his counterpart.

"…Did I ever date you?"

"Hey. I thought I could relieve you since you look like shit." Santana's never been happier to hear Finn Hudson's voice in her life. She's up and heading for the door before Finn's even all the way inside.

Noah sits up a little and he's wearing a very Puck-like smirk. "I'm gonna take that as a yes. Was the sex good?"

Santana closes her eyes and leaves the room because she doesn't want to hit an injured person. And because, yes, it was fucking awesome and she doesn't want to think about that right now.


	4. watch you slowly winding down for years

**Author's Note: **This has actually been written for a couple days...my internet was down so I couldn't get it uploaded. Sorry for the delay! Expect the next update within a couple of days.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. I am only responsible for their fictional corruption.

* * *

Puck wakes up and he_ remembers_. He remembers how he lost his virginity to Santana Lopez in Quinn Fabray's basement. He remembers how he and Finn got drunk for the first time in Mike Chang's basement when they were barely fourteen. He remembers the time he was supposed to be watching Sarah and they got into a car accident. "Ma," he groans, his voice rough and raspy from lack of use. She stirs immediately and is by his side instantly. Puck's eyes are kind of unfocused and his vision is blurry, so he blinks and lets his eyes adjust to the unfamiliar hospital room. That's one thing he doesn't remember. At all. "What happened?"

"An accident, Noah, while you were working." She's smoothing down his hair (what little he has) and fussing over the blankets and just being a mom. A wrinkle creases Puck's forehead. What accident could he possibly have while cleaning pools? He guesses maybe he could've drank a little too much beforehand and fallen in and nearly drowned, but that doesn't explain the bandages on one side of his face. Had he hit his face off of the side of the pool?

"Where are Finn and Santana?" His mother blinks at him, head tilted to the side in question. Puck gets his broken arm out of the blankets and stares blankly at it. It's bright red and Finn has already signed it with his name and _get well soon, bro_. "I remember they were here yesterday."

Mrs. Puckerman nods slowly, reaching for one of her son's hands. Puck lets her. He knows how much she worries about him and Sarah, how they're the only things she has in this world. After losing his Pop, his Ma had been really out of it. Puck doesn't like to worry her, but with his level of badassness, it's almost inevitable. "What else do you remember, Noah?" She's pretty much one of the only people who can get away with calling him that. He can't really expect his _mother_ to call him _Puck_.

One eyebrow lifts towards his hairline. "What d'you mean, Ma? I remember everything." Puck pauses and shrugs his shoulders lamely, notices how his mother's eyes seem to light up in a mixture of surprise and happiness. "Why?"

"Nothing, nothing," she insists, wearing a wide grin and wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Finn and Santana should be back soon with your sister." Puck nods and leans back against his pillows, seemingly satisfied. "Speak of the devil," his Ma says, and Santana appears in the doorway.

Puck smirks at her in that way he usually does, but for some reason, she's hesitating. It's a little annoying so he fixes her with a level stare. "Wow, San, I can tell you're _real_ happy to see me." The way he says it in such a natural, teasing tone sort of tells her it's _him_, more the _Puck_ she remembers than the _Noah_ she just met yesterday. "Get over here."

Santana steps into the room but heads straight for Mrs. Puckerman. They talk in hushed voices with their heads together for a few seconds, and Puck rolls his eyes at them. It's not like he doesn't know they're talking about him. Despite that, Santana's wearing a cautious sort of smile as she approaches his bed, standing at the side with her hands in her pockets. "Welcome back to the land of the living," she jokes and Puck barks out a familiar laugh. He's soothing her worries that he only remembers part of his life. But then she remembers how he sounded kind of like Puck yesterday, too, and doesn't let her guard down too much.

"Thanks. You're really giving me a warm welcome." Puck scoffs and looks up at her expectantly. When she doesn't make a move, he does it for her, latching his fingers around her wrist and pulling her down. Santana's surprised, mostly because he's _touching_ her when he hasn't in, like, _years_ and sort of because she hadn't expected someone who'd been smashed by a burning beam yesterday to be that strong. She's caught off guard and has to brace an arm against the bed to keep from toppling over.

"What the-" Santana practically chokes on her words when Puck leans up. And then he's kissing her, his lips firm and familiar against hers. Her reaction time is clearly dulled –and confused- because she doesn't respond at all for a couple seconds, and when she does, her lips are moving, too. Alarm bells ring in her head but he still tastes exactly the same and she's not all there. His mother makes a surprised noise from behind them, and that breaks Santana out of her trance. She pushes him away, probably a little harder than is necessary, but Puck just sinks back against his pillows licking his lips and smirking that Puck-smirk. She glares at him. "What the _fuck_, Puck?"

"What?" He says, trying (and failing) to mask his laughter. "I'm not allowed to kiss my girlfriend?"

Santana steps away from him and presses her fingers to her temple, gives Mrs. Puckerman a look that quite clearly says _I thought he remembered_ but says nothing. No one says anything for a few minutes and the only sound comes from the steady drip of Puck's IV and the beep of his heart monitor. Finn Hudson breaks the tension in that way only Finn Hudson can, stepping into the room and glancing about. "Jeez. Who died?" He glances between the three and Puck laughs. Finn raises his eyebrows a little and clears his throat, says "I brought your sister, man."

Sarah Puckerman is eight years younger than her brother, currently in her first year of college. She enters the room and places her pair of sunglasses atop her head. "Wow, Noah, you really miss me so much you have to get in an accident?" Sarah's eyebrows lift in a way very similar to her brother's.

"Who's that?" Puck says. Santana groans and Finn sighs and Sarah just blinks, confused. "Sarah's, like, eight years old."

"Try eighteen."

"What?"

"There really should only be family in here," the doctor interjects, stepping between Finn and Santana and earning a look from each of them. Finn's is close to a kicked puppy expression and Santana's just glaring at him as is common. "Now, Noah-"

"Call me Puck." The corner of Finn's mouth quirks upwards when he says this, and he nudges Santana like _at least he remembers __somet__hing _but she seems nonplussed. He might remember _something_, but he'd picked the year they were sixteen (she'd done the math; Sarah was eight when they were all sixteen). And if he was calling her his girlfriend, then he didn't remember anything about Quinn or the baby or everything that happened between sixteen and twenty-six. Not good.

"Puck, then," the doctor concedes, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm going to ask you a couple of questions. Be as honest as you can." He flips a couple pages of his clipboard and readies a pen. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen." The rest of the room shares a collective sigh.

"Maybe it would be best if you all left while I speak to Mr…er, Puck."

They all leave, but Santana shoots Puck a look as she leaves. He's pretty sure it's supposed to be intimidating, but it just comes out looking sexy as hell.

* * *

Finn's conversation with Rachel and Santana's phone call to Brittany are eerily similar from the explanation of Puck's condition right down to the _I'll be home as soon as I can, promise_. Santana doesn't tack _baby_ onto the end of that sentence like Finn does, though. She doesn't call Britt _baby_. Never has. Occasionally, she'll call her _duckie_, but that's another story entirely. They hang up at the same time and Finn's lips are quirked up in what might be a smirk. "Jinx."

"What are we?" She says, leaning against the Puckermans' counter and crossing her arms. "Five?"

"I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

Santana snaps the gum she's chewing. Mrs. Puckerman doesn't allow cigarettes in her house and even though she could really use one right about now, she doesn't really feel like going outside in the pouring rain. Besides, knowing Puck, he'll ask for a light and steal hers and it just wouldn't be worth it. "I think Puck's doing enough of that for all of us."

"Did I do her?" His voice calls from the living room, and it's clear that his mother isn't home. She'd rushed out to the grocery store as soon as they returned from the hospital with the prognosis that Puck had short term memory loss (Santana's initial reaction of _How short could it be? He's lost eight years of his life _had been met with a sigh and a response that sometimes after a head injury, portions of the brain shut down. When Finn had asked how long Puck could be like this, _worst case scenario,_ the answer had been _it may be permanent. But keep familiar things and people around, and his memory may come back easier, like a trigger). _So that was why the three of them were pouring over old issues of _The Thunderclap _and trying to jar Puck's memory. Unfortunately, the only question Puck had were whether or not he'd been with a certain girl. It was really annoying and very Puck, but seriously? He was driving Santana up the wall. Finn pours her a cup of coffee and she takes it and gulps down half the mug, black. Squaring her shoulders, Santana walks into the living room and sinks down beside him on the floor, careful to keep a bit of space between them. Puck was still convinced they were sixteen and dating, even if they'd all tried to tell him otherwise. He'd always been stubborn. "Who's this?"

The yearbook is shoved under Santana's nose and she finds herself looking down at a snapshot of Quinn Fabray during their sophomore year. She's got her hair pulled back and she's in the Cheerios uniform and Puck is all but drooling beside her. Santana's eyes narrow automatically, just because she _knows_ where his mind is going. It's not like she hates Quinn (anymore). They'd patched things up after the baby was adopted and had a cautious sort of friendship for the remainder of high school. Hell, they'd even roomed together in college (much to Puck's initial horror and later amusement). But sixteen year old Noah Puckerman wanted nothing more than to get into her skirt. Awesome.

"Quinn Fabray," she says simply, flipping forward a few pages and finding the picture of the two of them dancing at the Spring Fling. Santana points to it and sighs loudly. "You guys kind of dated for a while there, after we broke up." Puck's brows furrow.

"We broke up? Why?"

Santana snorts. "Why did we always break up, Puck? Because you were never a one woman kind of guy." He doesn't miss the hint of bitterness in her tone and he takes the yearbook back, flipping through a couple of the pages absently. He halts when he gets to the Glee Club picture, and she sees his expression fade from curious to confused.

"We were in _Glee Club_?" Puck looks at the picture for a long while before pointing to the girl standing front and center. "Who's that? She could be kinda hot in a twisted schoolgirl kinda way."

"Rachel Berry," Santana replied automatically. "Been there, done that."

"And she's my fiancée, so don't even think about it."

Puck looks up at Finn and shakes his head. "No way, man. I'd never do that to you." Neither Finn nor Santana bother to mention that he's already done it and knocked up his best friend's girlfriend. Finn has put it behind him. But Santana just doesn't want to deal with the backlash again. Puck had been messed up after giving Beth up. She doesn't feel like dealing with that tonight.

"So, like, are there any girls in this picture I didn't hook up with?"

This was going to be a very long night.

* * *

_"She's hot."_

_"Puck, seriously! I'm sitting right here!"_

_"So? You're my girlfriend. I can't say another girl's hot?" Santana shoves his shoulder with her own and he winces, even though it doesn't hurt. "They're high school girls, San. I can't help it if I like mature girls, too…"_

_"You mean you like how their uniforms fit." Puck doesn't argue with her. He doesn't really get why they're staring down at page two of the McKinley High Cheerios yearbook spread, but he's not complaining. After all, at fourteen, he's just beginning to notice the benefits of cheerleading skirts. Santana was wearing hers the other day and after she'd bent down, he'd had to walk around with a pretty obvious bulge in his jeans for the rest of the day._

_She'd mentioned it to him later that day and he'd denied it, of course. That was just embarrassing. "Why are we looking at this again?"_

_"Because," Santana sighs, sprawling out across her bed with the yearbook in her lap. "I'm gonna be one of these girls someday." Puck's eyes are bright at the thought –and the mental image- of Santana in a skirt even shorter than the ones the middle school squad wears. Hopefully he'll be older and wiser by then, too._

_"Yeah? I hear their coach is nuts."_

_"So? Look, if I get on the squad, my high school life is set. Quinn's sister's on the Cheerios now and they rule that place." Santana sighs loudly and snaps The Thunderclap shut. "I dunno, though. It's really hard to make it. Quinn's already got an in because of her sister and Brittany's an awesome dancer. I'm pretty good at cheer, but it's nothing special…" Puck shifts a little on the bed, but says nothing. "What if I don't make it?"_

_Puck takes his cue, then, to play the good boyfriend. "They'd be crazy not to have you. You're amazing, San." He leans over to kiss her, light and soft, and he feels her smiling against his lips. "Plus, you'd look really hot in one of those skirts."_

_"Wow, Puck. Thanks for that vote of confidence in my skills."_

_"Oh. You're pretty good at cheering, too." He grins a little, pointing a thumb to his chest. "When I'm the star of the football team, will you be my own personal cheerleader?"_

_"Don't I do that already?"_

_She kisses him again and he grins. "Yeah. And you can keep cheering for me after the game…"_

_"Shut up, Puck."_

* * *

"So, wait. We dated sophomore year and you broke up with me because of my nonexistent credit score," he looks over to her for confirmation. "And then we didn't get together again 'til Senior Year when I asked you to prom. But we broke up over the summer?" Santana sighs in exasperation and fists a hand in her hair.

"Yeah."

"Why'd we break up that time?"

"Mostly because you're a jerk," she replied evenly. "And partly because I went away to school." Puck frowns like he's trying to remember, but his face relaxes after a few seconds because he just _can't_. He takes her explanation, though, because it makes sense. He wouldn't want to be tied down at college, either, especially if his girlfriend was hundreds of miles away. Santana's glad he trusts her so blindly. That's another thing she really, really doesn't want to get into tonight. She knows she should've told him the truth back then, but God knows she's not gonna do it _now_.

"And you," Puck turns to Finn and fixes him with a level stare. "We have a thing for sharing girls, right? I mean, San says I at least made out with the girl you're gonna marry. And you lost the big V to her, too." He snickers quietly. Santana had told him that when he'd brought up how they'd done it at fourteen, probably to spite him. But since they hadn't been together at the time, he found he didn't really care. Fair's fair. "There's all kinds of pictures of you with Quinn Fabray in the freshman yearbook, but I hooked up with her…when?"

Santana and Finn exchange a glance as Puck flips through their sophomore yearbook and finds the picture of himself and Quinn at the dance. "Tenth grade?" He flips back a few pages and finds Quinn and Finn on homecoming court. His eyebrows raise. "Wait a second…" Santana and Finn exchange a glance but say nothing. Puck puts two and two together and winces. "Sorry, dude."

Finn shrugs. "I forgave you for that a long time ago." A couple pages of the yearbook are stuck together and when Puck peels them apart, a Polaroid falls onto the carpet between the three of them. It's face down, but the hasty scrawl on the back says _Beth, age one_. Puck reaches for it but Santana's too fast for him, snatching the photo up and staring at it. Finn leans over to look at it, too, and they share a look. Finn's says _We have to_. Santana's says _Not our place_.

"Hey!" Puck says, rolling his eyes at them. "You're my best friends. You hate each other. Stop doing that and give me my picture. Is Beth some hot chick I nailed?" Finn manages a forced smile at the joke but Santana just blinks at the picture. Puck deftly grabs it from her with quick fingers and flips it over, surprised at what he finds.

It's a snapshot of a baby with curly brown hair that looks kind of like his did in old baby pictures. She's got hazel eyes and dimples and a nose that reminds him of one of the pictures he'd seen in the yearbook, though he can't remember whose. Santana is running her fingers through her hair and Finn is leaning over to put a hand on his shoulder. Puck tilts his head to the side and feels his eyes prickling, though he's not sure why. A flash of a memory hits him. Singing Kiss. That's where the name came from. He swipes the back of his hand over his face and clears his throat. "I have a kid?"

"You guys gave her up," Finn says gently, and Santana lets him. He's better at this sort of thing than she is, breaking news without sounding blunt.

"With who?" He's looking at her now, and Santana just jerks her head quickly like _no, not me._

"Quinn Fabray." Realization dawns upon his face and Puck stands up, tucking the picture into his pocket as he goes. "I'm going to bed." He hesitates at the bottom step. "San?" She closes her eyes. "Will you stay?" She almost wishes Finn could cuddle with him and tell him everything's okay, too, because the last thing she wants to do is get into bed with Puck.

Well, actually, she wouldn't mind _sleeping_ with Puck, but that's besides the point. This is too close to home, too reminiscent of another night when she'd had to put her pride aside and soothe her best friend about his daughter. It's like déjà vu and it's annoying, but she can't just let him deal with it himself. He'll just get drunk and forget again because of it and they'll have to do this all over again.

"Fine," Santana mumbles, getting to her feet. "But don't try anything funny."

"Don't worry about it," Puck says, throwing Finn a glance over his shoulder. "I don't expect anything on a first date. At least not from you. You're not trashy."

"Wow, Puck. Thanks for vote of confidence…"


	5. the coffee's never strong enough

**Author's Note: **So, this chapter's a little shorter than the others but that's because its original outlined events started getting really long. I ended up cutting the chapter in half since the flashback itself is looking pretty long. The next chapter should be up by tomorrow...or even later today if I finish it up. Read on.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. I am only responsible for their fictional corruption

* * *

**4. **

Her phone is blaring out the theme song to _Friends_, which Brittany programmed into her phone two months ago and Santana never changed. She groans and burrows further into the blankets, pressing her face against Puck's back. Once she realizes what she's doing and who she's in bed with, she pulls herself into a crumpled, but technically upright, position. Puck's still out cold and snoring softly, his back to her and his arms wrapped around a pillow. Tugging her fingers through her hair, she reaches over him for her cell phone on his bedside table, pressing the _send_ key without bothering to look at the caller I.D. It's probably Brittany. Or her mother, if she's found out she's in town and hasn't stopped home yet.

"What?" She says through a yawn, not even bothering to mask her irritation at being woken up at –she glances at the clock- seven in the morning. If she was home, she would be up already anyway, but the events of the past day have left her drained and annoyed. She hears movement on the other end but no one answers for a second, and Santana uses the elastic on her wrist to pull her hair back. "I'm hanging up in three, two o-"

"Santana, it's Quinn." Santana nearly drops the phone from between her shoulder and ear. What _was_ this? The McKinley High Class of 2012 reunion? She's talked to Quinn since college, but it's not like while they were roommates. She's probably seen her twice in the last two years. "Quinn Fabray…?"

"I know who you are, Q," Santana barks, unable to hide her exasperation. Puck stirs beside her and she bites her tongue, watching as he abandons the pillow and rolls over, looping his arms around her waist instead. Great. Her plan for escape has been foiled. "What's up?"

Quinn inhales and Santana's known her long enough to know she's thinking. "Well, I heard about Puck," she says carefully, and Santana's first instinct is that Finn called her. The guy is still really good friends with his ex, and it seems like a very Finn thing to do.

Santana blows out a sigh. "Hudson told you?"

"Actually, Brittany called me…" Oh. Well, it was a very _Britt_ thing to do, too. In high school, she used to walk around calling the three Cheerios _The Three Musketeers_. "He doesn't remember anything?"

"We're easing him into it," Santana says. "He found out about Beth yesterday. He cried."

"Did not," Puck mumbles, his words muffled since he's got his face buried in the pillows. Quinn clicks her tongue on the other end of the phone.

"Where are you guys? I hear him in the background."

Without missing a beat, Santana replies with "In bed with Puck," like it's totally normal. And in high school? It was. Right now, it's a little weird, and she can almost hear the wheels turning in Quinn's head as she tries to decide whether or not sleeping with an ex while he's suffering from some kind of amnesia is morally wrong. "We just slept. Get your mind out of the gutter."

Quinn intones a dry laugh. "You know, I've really missed you." Santana's a little surprised that she sounds sincere instead of sarcastic, but shrugs it off. She might have tried to return the favor, but Quinn's already talking again. "Anyway, you know I'm in town. Would it be weird if I wanted to…meet up with him? I was gonna send him some updates this week but if he doesn't recognize her…"

"He does. But only the really old ones." Santana's trying to have this conversation without totally giving away what they're talking about –or who exactly she's talking to. She's banking on the hope that Puck was still sleeping when she answered, but that's not totally likely. He's still got his eyes closed, but Santana can tell he's listening and awake. He's not snoring anymore. "You want to have coffee at Starbucks? Say, ten?"

"That'd be great. Thanks."

"Mhm. Later."

"Santana?"

"What?"

"Are _you_ okay?"

If they were really sixteen again, Santana would have snorted and shrugged it off as Quinn just trying to be a good person. Back then, she'd been convinced that the blonde was putting up a front to get her parents' approval. But now? She thinks she's actually concerned. It's kind of nice and annoying at the same time, because Santana Lopez doesn't need anybody worrying about her. She shrugs and answers, "I'm fine."

"Really?"

"I'm_ fine_, Quinn." So much for hoping Puck didn't know who she was talking to. "Ten o'clock."

"Ten o'clock. Bye."

Santana hangs up without bothering to say goodbye, just because Quinn's ability to still read her after so many years is pissing her off. She knows she should feel grateful or something to even have such good friends –Brittany and Quinn are good, even if they're not Puck- but, really. They're just frustrating sometimes.

"Who was that?" Puck asks, even though she _knows_ he was listening. He even _sounds_ smug when he says it.

Santana tosses the phone aside carelessly. "Quinn Fabray." There's no use of lying when she knows he'll just raise his eyes all casual and smirk that annoying smirk of his.

"Oh yeah?" He says, and he smirks that damn smirk anyway, which is so irritating and a turn on all at the same time. Wait. What? Santana shakes her head in exasperation and massages her forehead. "Are you girls having a date? I don't know if I should be jealous or ask if I can tag along." Puck arches his eyebrows suggestively and Santana smacks his arm.

"_I'm_ not meeting her for coffee. _You_ are."

He looks totally confused, which looks stupid on Finn but looks kind of cute on Puck. Dear God, she really has a one track mind today. When Puck finally speaks, the words are slow and they upturn at the end like a question. "…you're setting me up with my baby momma?"

Santana rolls her eyes at him. "Your _baby momma_." Her inflection shows that she doesn't approve of the term and that Quinn probably doesn't either. "Wants to try and talk some sense into you. It's not my place to tell her she doesn't stand a chance when you've got the mindset of a sixteen year old boy." She gets to her feet, leaving Puck all wrapped up in the sheets. As she stands in the doorway, she turns around to throw him a look. "Don't knock her up again, stud."

"I'll do my best." Puck rolls his eyes right back at her and flops back down in bed. "I'll pull out."

"Hey, dumbass?" She calls from the hallway. "Your dad pulled out, too. Look what that got us."

* * *

He isn't a Starbucks kind of guy. Sure, he sometimes grabbed a coffee after a night out with the guys when he had a killer hangover, but it was usually just from his Ma's ancient coffee machine. Puck didn't really see the point in shelling out so much cash for something he could easily make at home. Hazel eyes flick about the dimly lit coffee shop, adjusting to the change in lighting. He props the sunglasses he's wearing on top of his head and looks around. There's hardly anyone in here right now, just a guy typing away at his laptop and a couple of teenage girls giggling and gossiping and, Puck's noticed, looking at him. If he was sixteen –_really_ sixteen- he totally would've sauntered over to them and flirted a little, maybe even gotten a number or two. But since he's supposed to be meeting the mother of his child (he still can't quite believe he has a kid, let alone gave her up ten years ago), he resists that particular urge.

Since he doesn't see Quinn Fabray anywhere, he walks up to the counter and orders a small hot chocolate. He nearly gets into an argument with the barista about how _tall isn't small_ but he drops it when the girl doesn't have to ask his name but just scrawls his nickname on the paper cup. Puck smirks a little. His reputation is clearly still alive in Lima, whether he lives here or not. He's not sure how a twenty-six year old Puck would feel about this, but right now? He feels pretty smug about it.

Puck puts a coffee collar on his cup and heads over to a table in the corner, sitting so he can face the door and see her when she enters the store. Sipping at the hot chocolate, he feels his taste buds burn but takes a large gulp anyway because, damn, it's good. It's got a hint of something that reminds him of the 'special' brownies he's so fond of making and that gets him wondering if Starbucks slipped something into this stuff so it was so addicting. That wouldn't surprise him. Teenage girls seemed absolutely crazy over the stuff.

Great. He was going to get addicted to Starbucks hot chocolate. That was really gonna kill his wallet. The bell atop the door rings, signaling another customer. Puck's eyes immediately find hers, and he feels a tug somewhere in his stomach that says maybe he wasn't totally over this girl. Or maybe he just thinks she's still really hot. Either way, Quinn's eyes meet his and his mouth turns up in a smirk. She looks away first and the smirk melts into a superior smile. _Hell yeah. Still got it._She waves at him and gestures to the counter. Puck tips back his sm…_tall _hot chocolate and finishes it off, standing up and following Quinn to the front of the store. He tosses his empty cup into the trash as he goes, sidesteps her and pulls out his wallet. The barista gives him a look like _back for more?_ And he shrugs, says "I'll have a grande hot chocolate." Which, despite his time spent in Mr. Schue's Spanish class, didn't mean _large_. Turning to look over his shoulder, Puck raises his brows at her. "What d'you want?"

"Uh." Quinn looks surprised and Puck's not surprised that she does. Since when does he pay for girls? She remembers him at sixteen –maybe eighteen- and he knows he's not exactly a gentleman most of the time. "A grande double chocolate chip frappuccino, please."

Puck nods and looks back to the girl behind the counter. "And a grande…whatever she just said." He flips open his wallet and holds out a five dollar bill. The barista clears her throat.

"Is this together or…?"

Shaking his head, Puck laughs and gives Quinn a sideways glance. "No, we're not together." And he winks a little as he says it. Quinn rolls her eyes at him but shells out the cash for her drink. They stand side by side in silence, shoulder to shoulder, and she's chewing her lip in a way that seems kind of familiar, like he's seen it in a dream. Or a memory.

"So…" He says, digging the toe of his sneaker into the tiled floor. "How are you?" Cool. Small talk. He was such a dork.

Quinn's smiling softly, though, and that's kind of nice. She shrugs. "I'm great, especially compared to you." She laughs at her own joke and shrugs one shoulder. "I'm a teacher now. Kindergarten. You already knew that, but you probably don't remember." Puck shakes his head to indicate that no, he doesn't remember. "And James and I are expecting our second child." Puck looks down, baffled that he didn't notice the small but still there baby bump under her blouse. She's married? Oh.

It wasn't like he expected anything to happen, but it was kind of a put off. She's pulling out her wallet and flashing him a picture of a little blonde boy. He can't help but grin a little. "He looks just like you."

"Yeah. I'm hoping for a girl this time…" Quinn places her hand upon her stomach and he sees her expression change from one of calm to worry, and she's looking up at him like she's worried she's offended him. "Sorry…"

Puck shrugs. "It's cool." Because it is. He kind of remembers now, just bits and pieces from the pictures he and Santana had dug out of a shoebox under his bed. It's not like he and Quinn Fabray were married. Far from it, actually. "As long as you don't steal my name. Because _Beth_? That was a pretty awesome performance, you gotta admit."

Quinn laughs and it sounds like bells. He cracks a smile. He thinks he liked to make her laugh before, too. It was always easy, he remembers. Their drinks appear and he hands Quinn hers and they head over to the table in the corner. For a few moments, they're quiet, Puck sipping away at his hot chocolate because he doesn't know what else to say and Quinn watching him carefully from behind the rim of her cup. When Puck lowers his cup, he's got a foam mustache and Quinn giggles again. "What?"

"You got something on your lip." He licks at it but doesn't get it all. Quinn sighs and licks her thumb, leaning over to wipe the foam from his face. "There." Their eyes catch, and this time, he looks off to the side first. Puck imagines that she's grinning, but he can't be sure since he's staring at his shoelaces.

"So…"

"So, I thought I'd show you the pictures." She's digging through her purse and produces an envelope with the name _Beth _written on it in careful script. The _B _is lower case, too, but it's bolded, like Quinn went over it several times with a pen. Puck stares blankly at the envelope for a couple seconds before looking up at her.

"Um. I kind of…don't know if I want to know?"

She nods, like she totally understands. She probably does. Puck gets the feeling that they've talked about this whole semi-open adoption thing before, but since he can't remember, he's hesitant to look. He knows it's just going to hurt that all these years have passed and he's never seen his daughter, not once. His hand is resting on the table and Quinn reaches out to place hers over his. He jumps a little but she's giving him a reassuring sort of smile.

He breathes out a shaky sigh. "Okay. Let's do this."

Quinn tips the envelope over and several photographs spill out. She gathers them up and begins organizing them by age. She looks over at him from behind one of the stills. "Where do you want to start?"

"Do you have one…from when she was born?" He doesn't remember that at all except for the fact that they'd been performing at Regionals. He doesn't remember the delivery room or looking at his baby girl or ever telling Quinn Fabray he might have loved her. She bites her lip and hands one of the photos over.

It's a little smudged and there is a watermark in one place, like someone (probably Quinn) cried over it a few times. Teenage Quinn is laying in bed with little baby Beth on the pillow. Teenage Puck, who's mohawk-less for some reason he can't quite remember, is standing beside her looking basically awed. He's got a finger extended towards the baby and Beth is gripping it, hard. And someone else is in the picture, too, that black girl from the Glee Club picture whose name he can't remember. "Who's she?" Puck says, when his mouth stops feeling so dry.

"She was gonna be the godmother if I…"

Puck nods jerkily. She doesn't want to say _if I kept her_ and he finds he doesn't really want to hear it. "What's next?"


	6. there, there baby

**Author's Note: **Fun fact: I wrote that flashback before writing anything else of chapters 4 and 5. It was a really vivid scene in my mind ever since we saw those behind the scenes pictures of a scene that was apparently cut from _Journey_. I really wanted to see that, so I figured I'd just write it out instead. Also, listened to the Spring Awakening soundtrack while writing this. Inspiration is lovely.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. I am only responsible for their fictional corruption. I don't own Spring Awakening, either, even though it's awesome. I also don't own Starbucks...You know what? It's safe to say I own pretty much nothing mentioned in this story except for the story itself, 'kay? 'kay.

* * *

**5.**

"What do you think they're talking about?" Finn asks for the umpteenth time. Santana is ready to pull her hair out. Where the hell is Rachel Berry to distract him when she needs her? She'd asked about his fiancée earlier today and got a long-winded story about how Finn wasn't sure where they were going to live once they got hitched because Rachel's dreams meant New York, but he was happy in Columbus. Santana wanted to say that he was gonna be a pushover and move to NYC just for his lover, but figured Finn wouldn't get the insult and just assume she wished she had a guy who was willing to drop everything for her, which she wasn't. So Berry was in New York doing some show. _Spring Awakening_ or something? Santana's never heard of it.

"Probably Beth," Santana says for the umpteenth time. She really hopes that's all they're talking about. Quinn's married, so she doesn't think Puck will try anything stupid. But, then again, Quinn _is_ a mother and married, and those sorts of women have been known to be Puck's type. Fuck. Maybe he's still into cougars.

Santana never thought she'd be hopeful when thinking that. It's not even that she's jealous. If Puck's with another girl –which he very well might be in Columbus- that's perfectly fine. It's partially (mostly) her fault that they broke up in the first place, even if he doesn't know that. And it's not just because of the amnesia thing, either. She's just never really given him the real reason.

"Do you think he'll, like, try and kiss her?"

"Finn, you know if Puck wanted to, he'd do a hell of a lot more than kiss a hot blonde." Finn blinks at her and Santana huffs loudly. Sometimes, she really misses having Puck around just so she doesn't have to break everything she says down into little pieces. Brittany and Finn are alike in the way that they don't always _get _what she's saying. And with Britt, she doesn't mind because she's just so damn adorable and clueless. Finn just kind of gets on her nerves. "…nevermind."

The coffee maker dings and she pours two cups. Finn dumps a healthy amount of sugar and milk into his and she guzzles hers black. "Oh. I don't think he'll have sex with her again. He learned his lesson."

"Finn, he doesn't _remember_ any of that."

"Oh…right. Shit, he's gonna be a mess afterwards, huh?"

Santana nods somberly. Judging by the way he reacted that day at the hospital? Yeah, he was probably gonna go straight for the alcohol. Santana couldn't say she really blames him.

* * *

_He's shaking and sweating so badly that it's a wonder he wasn't the one in labor back there. His vision is blurry and the room is spinning and he's pretty sure he's gonna pass out right here. His Ma isn't here yet. Quinn's mother is fussing over her and the baby just got taken to the nursery. Puck's following her little, plastic box on wheels because he knows he doesn't have much time with her. He thought that, maybe, once Quinn saw her and how cute and pink she was, that she'd change her mind about the whole adoption thing. He knows it's not ideal at all. Teenage parents? Have you seen that MTV show?_"

_But that's his daughter in there, half of him, and Puck just knows that she'd love him unconditionally, just like his Ma does, just like his sister does. Just like his dad never did. And he just knows that he'd love her back just as much, just like his Ma does with him and Sarah. Just like his dad never did with him. His throat is dry and his eyes are prickling, and the stupid smock they'd made him put on is making it really hard to run to her like he'd like to. And the nurse wheeling little Beth away doesn't notice him following or hear his attempts at getting her attention._

_As he turns the corner, Puck practically runs head on into all of New Directions. They're all there, still dressed in their clothes from Regionals and looking varying degrees of concerned and scared. Artie Abrams looks like he might throw up at any minute, and if it'd been any other time, Puck probably would have laughed. As it is, he can hardly keep himself standing when he stops in front of them, staring at their concerned faces and wondering why these people have accepted him into their group so willingly when he'd been nothing but mean to them in the past. He'd thrown Kurt Hummel in dumpsters. He'd locked Artie in a port-o-potty. He'd slushied Rachel Berry hundreds of t- Wait, where was Rachel?_

_He doesn't linger on this thought long, because he doesn't really care. Puck just clears his throat and mumbles, "It's a girl," even though they all already know that. And then they're all on their feet –except Artie, who's just as close anyway- and moving towards him and Puck thinks they're gonna, like, give him a big group hug or something lame like that. But only Mr. Schue comes close enough for him to reach out for, and damn, that guy has like twelve surrogate children because most of them have daddy issues or mommy issues or both. And he doesn't even care when Puck leans heavily against him or when he probably gets baby goop all over his shirt. He just hugs him back and says "It's okay, Puck."_

_That's really all he's ever wanted to hear from his dad and that makes the tears that he's been holding back until now drop. He feels like such a fucking pansy. He's Noah Puckerman, badass extraordinaire. He doesn't cry. He sure as hell doesn't cry in front of people. But no one says a word as he takes a couple deep breaths and composes himself. Finn even steps through the crowd to get by his side and puts his hand on Puck's shoulder and squeeze like, I'm here for you, man. After all the shit that's gone down between them, it's nice to know he hasn't totally ruined that._

_After a couple of minutes of this weird almost-group hug, Puck takes a step back, buries his hands in his pockets. "So...you guys wanna see her?" His voice is thick but no one says anything except that they'd love to. Since baby gate went down, little Drizzle/Jackie Daniels/Beth Puckerman-Fabray has practically become all of theirs in some way. Puck knows that if they'd kept her, they'd have a room full of fake aunts and uncles on hand. Puck nods and gestures down the hall. "The nursery's down here."_

_As he walks, his feet are heavy. They all let him lead the way, Finn on one side and Mr. Schuester behind him, like maybe they can catch him if he passes out. Someone steps up on his left and takes his hand, rubs his sweaty palm in soothing circles with a thumb. He doesn't need to look to know who it is. He does anyway, just to gauge her reaction. Santana Lopez looks kind of sick, but her jaw's set like she's determined to do this, whatever this is. Puck squeezes her hand and she squeezes his back firmly, telling him to stop staring at her because this is about him anyway._

_All eleven of them huddle around the little window that opens into the nursery, shoulder to shoulder and holding hands, hands on shoulders, hugging each other. Some of the girls are crying. Finn's got a death grip claw on Puck's shoulder and Santana's clutching his hand tightly while Puck tips his chin towards a little girl to the left, wrapped up in a pink blanket. She's reaching up and somehow manages to grab the blue blanket from the poor sucker to her right. Puck barks out a laugh and leans his forehead against the glass. "That's my girl."_

_"She looks like you," Brittany says matter-of-factly. Puck's throat feels like it's going to close. Santana steps towards him and he leans against her, resting his cheek against her head and staring at his daughter with a fond smile. "She's got Q's nose."_

_Everyone is looking at the baby, but Santana's watching Puck's expression. He looks absolutely vulnerable and awed. She's never seen quite like this and she's known him forever. She trails her fingers absently up and down his arm. "She's got your attitude if she's stealing that poor sap's blanket already," she says when she finally looks at the kid. It hurts, but she is kind of adorable._

_"I hope to God she grows up like me," he says, and when Santana glances up at him, he says. "I mean being totally hot. With our gene pool, she's gotta be set."_

* * *

"And this is Beth's school picture from this year."

Quinn watches as Puck's eyes get all wide and he delicately picks up the photo. She's ten years old now. It seems like just yesterday…It seems like just yesterday he didn't even know he was a father. Oh, wait…Puck shakes his head in a speechless sort of way, looking at the curly, dark hair that's so totally Jewish. If she was a dude, it'd suck. That's why he doesn't wear his hair long. He'd just look like Jew-fro 2.0. But it looks good on his kid. She's paler than he is, hazel eyes, Quinn's nose, and dimples to die for. God, if she smiled that smile at him, Puck would probably melt and give her anything she wanted. "She looks like you."

"I think she looks more like you, actually." Quinn shrugs and smiles at him. It's nice to know that she's not the only one who can stare at these old pictures and look dumbfounded. He might not remember it all, but Quinn can see the connection he feels with that child. He sets that picture aside and reaches for the one taken in the hospital, the only one with him in it. He traces the tiny baby's silhouette with his thumb sadly, wishing he remembered holding her, wishing he could've held her more.

"How do you deal with it?" Puck asks after a few minutes. Quinn looks towards the ceiling. They've been sitting here for over an hour now, two empty cups each between them and part of a muffin they'd split (Puck actually had caved and bought her the third drink and paid for the muffin, too). "I feel like my heart's in my throat and if you weren't here, I'd probably cry."

Quinn gives him a look like _you can cry in front of me, idiot_ but says, "I look at these pictures sometimes. You've got them, somewhere at your place probably. And if it's a really bad day –like her birthday or mother's day- I um…" She looks at him and he sees a faint blush upon her cheeks.

"You what?"

"I call you, actually. You handle it better than I do." That's kind of surprising, truthfully, and Puck raises his eyebrows like he doesn't believe her. Quinn laughs and flicks a straw wrapper at him playfully. "Seriously! I think you took it worse at the time and I dealt with the consequences after. You were actually really-" Her cell phone goes off and Puck raises his eyebrows at her when the ringtone is _Beth_. No wonder she has to call him so much if she's reminding herself of the kid all the time. Still, it is a pretty awesome song…"Sorry."

Puck leans back in his chair and flicks his wrist like _no problem _and she takes the call. "Liam, listen, I'll be home soon, okay? Okay. Love you, too. Bye." It's her kid, because Puck remembers her husband's name is James. His memory is fucking _awesome_ in the present, but his past is still pretty muddled. Pushing out his chair, Puck gathers up their trash and throws it away. Quinn looks apologetic. "We don't have to leave."

"Your mommy duties call." Quinn stands up, too, and they stand awkwardly on either side of the little table they were sitting at. He's watching her and she's looking back. He can actually see the _screw it_ moment flash in her eyes, and _that_ reminds him of something, too, though he's not sure what. The blonde walks around the table and pulls him into a hug. Waiting a beat, Puck hugs her back. She squeezes him tightly around the middle as she draws away, sighs softly.

"It was good to see you…Despite the circumstances."

"Yeah. Nice to see you, too." They head to the door together. Puck has to unlock his truck –the same one he's had since high school- by hand. Quinn clicks the remote of her new SUV and Puck raises his eyebrows like _what does the hubbie do, anyway? _What he says as he ducks into the truck is, "Call me." She will, but it won't be for a date. It'll be about the kid, like it has been for the past four years. He just doesn't remember that part.

* * *

Puck gets home to Santana, Finn, and Sarah sitting on the living room floor with a bottle of Jack Daniels between them. They've each got a couple of his shot glass collection in front of them. He notices that Santana's got his prized Las Vegas Hard Rock one, though he doesn't remember that it's from a senior trip with Santana, Quinn, Finn, Rachel, and Brittany. MTV is playing in the background. "What are you doing corrupting my baby sister?"

Sarah snorts and throws back a shot as someone says _situation_ on TV. "'cause I didn't get corrupt from you." It's a little surprising how level her voice is. Puck is torn between feeling proud and being angry with her. In the end, he settles on proud and sinks down between her and Santana, reaching over to take the Hard Rock glass and moving to take the shot.

"Hey!" Finn slurs, unfocused eyes finding him after a few seconds of staring just to his left. "You're only s'posed to drink when they say stuff."

Puck nods and points at the screen. "Well, they're talking about some bitch named Angelina, so. That's something."

"No. You have to wait until they say _situation_ or _guido_ or some other stupid Jersey word."

He gives his sister a stare before glancing over to Santana. "Why are we playing the Jersey Shore drinking game?" When they'd been in high school and this show first started off, they'd get really smashed every Thursday to the point of drinking when one of the characters was on screen. "Why are they playing these reruns anyway?"

"We're playing because we're in Lima and we're bored," Santana replies evenly, throwing back a shot. "And they're marathoning it because another season is coming out. Angelina's coming back."

"Again?" Puck takes a drink. He knows the three of them are drinking because they knew he'd be drinking when he got home, and that's kind of sweet of them. Even if it _is_ one in the afternoon. Luckily, his Ma's at work. Snookie says _guido_. They all take a shot.


	7. just textbook stuff

**Author's Note: **So, it's been a while. School and work have made it hard to write, but now that I'm home for the holidays I hope to finish this. Hopefully some people are still out there reading.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters. I am only responsible for their fictional corruption.

* * *

**6.**

He wakes up and he doesn't remember anything. That's actually normal lately, so he doesn't think much of it until he tries to sit up and finds his way hindered by a massive headache. The only way to get the room to stop spinning is to lay back down, so he does, burrowing deeper beneath the blankets and pressing his face against the pillows. Light is streaming through the half-open blinds and it's not really helping his hangover at all. Neither does the full-on afternoon sun when someone yanks the blinds all the way open and says "Wake up, sleeping beauty. You're wasting your life."

He recognizes her immediately this time. That's something, right? "San, get out of here. I'm dying."

She just rolls her eyes at him and tosses him a fresh set of clothes and a towel. "Go take a shower. You stink like stale alcohol." She shouldn't have been surprised when Puck just sits up and starts stripping in the middle of his bedroom, but it takes her a second or two to look away. Even with the angry red marring his skin from the left side of his face and disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans, Puck's still incredibly good looking. If possible, it looks like his muscles have _grown_ since high school. And he was built then.

Puck's smirking, hands hesitating on the button of his jeans. "Come to see the gun show? It's free." When he starts flexing his biceps (and the tattoo she's never seen before), Santana snaps out of it, rolls her eyes in typical Santana fashion, and purses her lips in a way that makes her look angry –but still totally hot.

"Been there, done that," she quips, tossing her hair and leaving his bedroom. She gives him a look over her shoulder. "And, for Finn's sake, put on some underwear this time." Yeah. Only for _Finn's_ sake. She can hear Puck laughing as she heads down the stairs.

When he gets downstairs ten minutes later, he's only wearing a towel around his waist. And he's _wet_. And smirking that familiar smirk as he eyes her from the doorway. Santana has to work particularly hard to ignore him completely, but she manages, focusing on his sister instead. Finn's still passed out in the living room. He never _could_ handle his alcohol. "Are those waffles?"

Santana nods. "Very good, genius. You know your food groups."

Puck nods back, reaching over to steal one of his sister's Eggos. She protests, but he's already taken a huge bite out of it. "My food groups are alcohol, coffee, protein and Eggos." Same old Puck. Santana didn't really even have to think about throwing him the signature glare she'd perfected back in high school. She was half the reason she owned that expression anyway. Puck just shrugs, steals one of Santana's waffles this time. "What's on the agenda for today?"

Sarah shrugs. "I'm meeting Carlos for dinner." Puck and Santana share a brief look. Puck's not sure how to feel about his sister meeting up with Santana's brother. He remembers Carlos as an eight year old who idolized him. That probably means he grew up kind of like him. He's pretty sure he doesn't approve. He knows what teenage boys are like…He _was_ a teenage boy. Hell, he's _still _a teenage boy in his mind.

"Oh my God, Noah, it's _Carlos_. Don't look so worried."

"I'm not worried…I'm just gonna talk to him."

"Nope. I'm meeting him somewhere. And I'm not telling you where." Before Puck really has a chance to respond, she's out of her seat and heading for the door. "Hey, Finn. You look like shit." Then she's gone and Puck's left with a half-eaten waffle and an overprotective brother streak. Santana's watching him with a raised brow.

"If he fucks with her…or _fucks_ her…"

"Then it'll be payback for all the times you fucked his sister?" She's half joking. Santana thinks of Sarah as practically her own surrogate sister. If Carlos ever hurt her, he'd be in for it from both sides. "We've already been through this." When Sarah and Carlos were ten and went on their first 'date', she and Puck had sat in the back of the movie theatre throwing popcorn whenever Carlos would do something particularly Puck-like. When he'd pulled the _oh-I'm-just-stretching-let-me-put-my-arm-around-you _routine, Puck had almost lost it. The way he cared for his sister was almost endearing…if he wasn't such a hypocrite.

Frowning slightly, Puck goes back to his waffle. It's quiet except for Finn's snores from the living room until he breaks it again. "What're we doing today?" He's come to the conclusion that she and Finn are sticking around until he gets his memory back…or they give up. Whichever comes first. He kind of hopes it's the former, but he doesn't mind spending time with them. Especially Santana. For some reason, he can't shake the feeling that they haven't spent much time together lately. He wonders why. They'd been insanely close as kids and even in high school. He can't help but think it's probably his fault.

"Get dressed. Wouldn't want you to get arrested for public indecency…again."

Puck scoffs, indicating his shirtless self with a tip of his chin. "In what universe is _this_ indecent? I was doin' everybody a favor." He gets up anyway, flicking a little bit of water from his mohawk at her as he goes.

Santana heads for the living room as soon as he's out of sight, a cup of coffee and a couple aspirin in hand. Flopping down on a part of the couch that Finn isn't covering is difficult, so she just sits on his legs instead. He groans and stirs faintly and when he speaks it's barely above a hoarse whisper. "Five more minutes, Rach. I swear I'll run lines with you then…"

"Oh my God, Hudson. Can't you even have a sex dream like a normal person?" Finn freezes up then, obviously recognizing the voice but unable to piece together why he's in the same room with Santana Lopez. The_ last_ time that happened, Rachel almost killed him. And fooled around with Puck. Somehow, that outcome probably wouldn't end well. In his forgetful state, Puck might wanna marry Rachel because she's Jewish or something. That'd suck. "Don't look so horrified. I slept with Puck last night."

That just has Finn's eyebrows raising farther. He knows the two of them were close, but that seems almost like taking advantage. And it probably won't help Puck remember that he and Santana haven't dated since high school and that his most recent relationship ended badly. "Not _that_ way, perv. He needed someone to cuddle." Which only proves how messed up Puck is from figuring out he's a father. Puck doesn't _cuddle._ Actually, neither does Santana. But they're the exception to the rule. Finn learned that on a camping trip their Senior year.

Santana wordlessly passes the coffee and aspirin over to Finn and he throws the pills back, chasing them with the coffee. It's black, and he sputters a little bit at the bitterness. Santana gives him a look that says _don't be a pussy_ and he sits up a little bit. "What's up?"

"I want you to get out of here."

Finn blinks. He's totally confused, she can tell. His expression matches the one Brittany wears when she says something that isn't straightforward. "Look, if you _actually_ wanna sleep with Puck, I can go…" She almost face-palms, literally, but settles for smacking him in the shoulder. Finn spills hot coffee on himself and swears. It sounds a little funny…Finn Hudson was Mr. Golden boy back in high school. He rarely used to swear. It's a nice contrast. Puck, on the other hand, is just as foulmouthed as ever. Granted, he still thinks he's sixteen…

"_No_, Hudson. I just think what Puck needs right now is tough love. And you suck at that sort of thing." She doesn't miss the bemused expression Finn's wearing. He's surprised she just used the term _love_ in any sense when referring to Puck. Her lip curls in a frown. "It's just an expression."

Finn knows that she really did love Puck at one time. He knows a lot of things. People write Finn off as stupid, but he's really observant. He knew Santana liked Puck _that way_ almost before she knew herself. He's wrong this time, though. Santana's moved on. And she's not about to let the fact that her best friend just remembers the good parts of their relationship take away all of the progress she's made over the years. She's just concerned about him, is all. Before he was her boyfriend, Noah Puckerman was her best friend. She still likes him.

And, okay, he's hot.

"Right," Finn says after the awkward silence settles between them. "I can go. My Mom and Burt are mad I didn't stop by yet anyway."

"Good. You do that." They have an understanding. Even though Finn and Santana were never exactly close themselves (except that one time sophomore year that neither of them really like to talk about), they both care about Puck. A lot.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Puck says once they're in the car. He's wearing the McKinley football sweatshirt she used to steal all the time. She ignores that and directs his shitty old truck into the parking lot.

"To school." The look on his face right then is priceless. He looks absolutely appalled.

"But it's Saturday…"

Santana snorts. "Like that's ever stopped you before. You've been breaking into this place since we were fourteen." She rolls her eyes, but it's said with a certain fondness. She gets out of the car and he has no choice but to follow. She'd hijacked his car keys before they'd left. So, hands in pockets and with a slight slump to his walk, he follows her up the front steps and to the front door of McKinley High School. She feels a rush of nostalgia. He feels like he's going to detention.

When she tries the doors, they don't budge. Puck sighs through his teeth. "It's locked. Too bad." Santana grabs his wrist and pulls him back so he can't escape. They lock eyes for the briefest second and there's almost a moment. Chocolate meets hazel and neither of them dares to look away until Puck looks down at her hand on his wrist and Santana points towards the door.

"So unlock it."

It only takes a couple seconds for Puck to fish the Swiss army knife out of his pocket. He's carried that thing since they were eleven and some kids were harassing Santana and Brittany on the walk home from school. Sure, it'd been a little violent (and Puck never would have done anything with it), but it got Dave Karofsky to back off. He slides the blade into the lock, turns clockwise, and the door pops open with a satisfying click. "I still got it."

"Still got what?" Santana mutters as she steps past him and into the dark hallways. "Criminal tendencies?"

Puck smirks but says nothing, following her down the hallway and looking around. It still looks exactly the same. The only real difference is a new paint job on the lockers. He bets that his phone number isn't on the girls' bathroom wall anymore, either. His legacy here is probably long gone except for the football pictures in the trophy case. "We going to the football field?" He figures that's what the purpose of this little field trip is, to jog his memory. Santana's a couple paces ahead of him and she just shrugs.

"Yeah, later. We're stopping somewhere first." His first instinct is the gym, because he did play basketball and she cheered. His second thought is the locker room, because back when he played football and she had Cheerios after school, they'd sometimes meet up in the locker room for some after-practice stress relief. It was awesome. Chuckling softly, he falls back into step with her. "Are we gonna stop by the locker room first this time?"

That's her best friend. He sounds _exactly the same_ right down to the expression on his face when he says it. One side of his mouth is turned up in the ghost of the infamous smirk, a single eyebrow raised. She just hits him in the arm. "No. Here." She pushes open one of the doors. This room he doesn't recognize right away. It's got a couple rows of chairs set up on one side, a white board, and a piano. _That_ seems vaguely familiar.

"Did we do it on the piano?"

"That's not the point!"

"…that's not a no…" Santana groans, pushing him farther into the room and sidestepping him before perching on the edge of the piano. That's not really going to help him focus, but whatever. She gestures to a case in one corner. There's a number of smaller trophies and one large one in the center. Puck hums thoughtfully and approaches the case, looking at the snapshots in front of the smaller trophies, each one a group of familiar and unfamiliar students. Each year, it looks like the club gained a few members. The last year, they'd won Nationals. He doesn't remember any of that at all, not losing Regionals to Vocal Adrenaline in Sophomore Year or kissing Santana full on the lips when they took Nationals in New York Senior Year.

"I don't remember." He sounds a little put off, and Santana hops down from the piano to examine some of the instruments in one corner of the room. She plucks a beaten up acoustic guitar from the group and holds it out to him. Puck just raises his eyebrows at her. He'd always had a thing for the guitar. When his dad left, he'd found his old acoustic guitar up in the attic. Instead of smashing it to pieces like he'd wanted to do, Puck had taught himself how to play. The ladies loved it. He hadn't really played in a while (not true; he actually used to get a couple gigs at clubs on weekends), but he takes the guitar loosely in hand anyway, plucking a few chords and frowning when it's out of tune.

He starts pacing the room slowly, working on tuning the guitar and trying to remember. He can _almost_ see a ragtag group of kids sitting in the rows of chairs, _almost_ hear Mr. Schuester telling them about their next assignment, _almost_ see Rachel Berry taking charge even if she's not supposed to. But he can't. He just sees empty chairs and memories that he can't remember, even if his fingers seem to be plucking a familiar tune.

Santana recognizes the song immediately. It's the one he first played for the club. For _Rachel_, really. He's played a few times since then. Singing for girls seems to be his thing. He'd done _Beth _for Quinn and the baby. He'd done _Lady is a Tramp _for Mercedes. Hell, he'd practically been singing _Only the Good Die Young _for Fabray, too. And then he'd sang _Sweet Caroline_ to prove he was a leading man. Santana's always been a little jealous that he's never sang anything for _her_. She sang for him, once upon a time.

When his voice croons out low, she can't help but stare. His voice is fucking awesome and he knows it. The way his fingers pluck the strings of the guitar is mesmerizing. "Where it began, I can't begin to know when. But then I know it's growing strong." She wonders if he's seeing what she's seeing. She sees a group of eleven sitting in the lined up chairs, all the girls practically melting at just his voice. Rachel Berry is in her prime, because he's singing to her. Quinn Fabray's biting her lip in what she can only guess is surprise. And Santana? She's all but _glaring_ at him while he sings to another girl. Sure, it sounds _good_ but she knows this is just a stunt to get under Berry's argyle. And she's not sure she approves of that.

The guitar squeaks during the second verse, and Puck chuckles softly, setting it aside. That pulls Santana out of her reverie. "D'you remember?"

He shrugs. "Pieces. I sang it for that Jewish chick. She was hot." Of course.

* * *

_Knock 'em down, roll 'em around, come on defense work!_

_His gaze shifts to the scoreboard. McKinley's heading for their first winning season in twelve years on the heels of Coach Beiste. They've actually already earned themselves a playoff spot, but this is about more than that. This is the rivalry game, McKinley Titans vs. Carmel Greyhounds. It's about pride. It's about showing those guys from Carmel that they couldn't just walk all over McKinley in every competition. Last year, New Directions and Vocal Adrenaline had tied in Regionals and headed to Nationals…together. And Carmel came out on top. Again._

_It was Senior year. This was their last shot. Puck, Finn, Mike Chang…all the guys had made a pact. They were taking this game, and then they were gonna take Nationals right from out under Vocal Adrenaline's nose. The scoreboard blinks back at him from his spot on the line of scrimmage. There are twenty seconds left to go. Carmel has the ball. And the Titans are down by four. They need a touchdown…they need a fucking miracle._

_From behind his helmet, Puck catches Finn's eye. Normally, he didn't play a lot of defense, but this was different. This could be the last football game he'll ever play. Finn nods from behind his mask. The whistle blows, and it's chaos. Two guys rush the quarterback. Puck drops back in coverage. He isn't gonna throw it, though. Only an idiot would do that…He's gonna run._

_It was a split second decision. Instead of dropping back to cover the wide receiver, Puck darts forward to block the run. Carmel's running back is huge, carrying the ball under only one arm. Instead of going for the leg tackle that'd force them back, Puck lowers his shoulder and drives it straight into the guy's arm. The ball squirts out, and someone –someone in a red uniform- scoops it up. Puck springs to his feet instantly, throwing blocks and running a couple steps behind his bumbling, tall teammate._

_"Ten yards, Hudson. That's all we need."_

_The Greyhounds' quarterback is the only thing standing between them and the win. Time has already expired on the clock. If Finn goes down, it's all over. The tall football player lowers his helmet…and then promptly chucks the ball back to Puck. He almost drops it in surprise, but he manages to secure it. Finn blocks the last remaining player and Puck dances into the endzone…literally._

_"Fuck yeah! In your face, Miller!" He spikes the ball and is partway into his patented victory dance when Finn reaches him, pulling him into a friendly headlock. There's a mass of red on the field now, the entire team gathered in one lump and raising their helmets. And they're all chanting his name from the sidelines, too. It's the best feeling…and this time, when he sees Quinn Fabray find her quarterback boyfriend and kiss him, he doesn't much care. He doesn't care when Finn breaks off from his side to kiss Rachel, either._

_His eyes sweep the field for the obvious bright red uniform. There are so many of them running around. All the freshman Cheerios are freaking out. Where is his Cheerio, though? He'd heard her yelling his name when he walked in the winning touchdown… "Fuck yeah, Puck! You did it!" He's practically knocked off his feet when she launches herself at him, but he drops the game ball in favor of catching his girlfriend securely in his arms. Santana tosses his helmet aside, too, and kisses him full on the lips, all smiles and tongue. It's a good day._

_He's feeling particularly dorky and happy right now, so he spins her around a little bit in the air. "Can you see the headlines?" He whispers in her ear. "Puckerman scores…Do I get to score again tonight?"_

_She doesn't even shoot him down when he says that. His girlfriend is so cool._

* * *

He's leaning against the railing in the bleachers, staring out at the football field. This part, he remembers. Not the winning seasons or the District Championship. He remembers the team sucking and something about Beyoncé… But not much else. Puck's just remembered that they were awesome Senior year, and that he must've been dating Santana then. He can almost remember the adrenaline rush of winning that game, or the way he and Finn laughed like little kids after winning, or taste her lips…

Santana's sitting on the bottom bleacher, just watching him. He looks so lost and confused, but the line creasing his forehead tells her he's thinking about something really hard. She doesn't want to bother him, even if it's starting to get dark and his Ma's probably made them dinner by now. Sighing, she drags herself to her feet and moves to stand by his side, hesitating before looping one of her arms around his. "C'mon, Puck. We should go…"

He turns his head, then, and she knows that look. She should've been able to react faster, but before she can untangle her arm from his, he's leaning down, down. Her protests die on her lips when they touch his, and his tongue is pressing insistently for entrance. She's melting into it, like she always does. She can be pissed as all hell at him, and he'll kiss her like _that_ and she'll just want to kiss him back. Her mind hasn't even caught up with her heart in her throat enough to kiss back, and when it does catch up, she pushes at his chest and shakes her head. "No."

He looks even more confused now. "No?" Puck stops, though, sliding his hands into his pockets and taking a step back and away from her. "I just thought…"

"You thought wrong," she snaps, working hard to get the Head Cheerio tone back in her voice. He can't know that she still wants…want_ed_ this. It'd just complicate things. Santana's only here to help him remember. Then she'll go back to Cleveland and he'll go back to Columbus and they'll see each other once a year, if they're lucky. This can't happen. She shakes her head, catching the lost look in his eye. "I don't care if you don't remember. You _know _why we can't do this."

He opens his mouth, as if to protest, but Santana holds up a hand. "No." Puck doesn't push her, then. He just slumps his shoulders and looks back to the field, trying to remember just what it is he forgot about her. He still feels like he knows her and can read her better than anyone. But maybe he's wrong. Santana breathes out in a little sigh, tries not to taste him on her lips too much as she turns to go. "Come on. We should go."

"You go ahead," Puck says, leaning against the railing again. When she gives him a long look, he just shrugs. "I'll walk. I got a lot to think about."

She hesitates for a second, but then leaves. He's giving her an out, and she'd be stupid not to take it. He'll remember eventually. And then he'll go back to Columbus and she'll go back to Cleveland. It's better this way.

He still tastes exactly the same.


	8. the cold sweat of guilt

**Author's Note: **...s'been a while. Since it's summer, I'm making it a goal to finish this baby. I am working and I have other things to focus on, but I'm going to try and start updating regularly again. This chapter might be a little disjointed since the first little bit was written months ago and then I went back and rewrote parts...But it's just setting things in motion. Enjoy.

* * *

**7. the cold sweat of guilt**

When he gets home hours later, the house is dark. Everybody's probably asleep. His Ma should be at work right now, but knowing her, she's taken off indefinitely until _her Noah_ is better. He makes a mental note to tell her to stop. She needs to stop worrying about how fucked up his head is and make enough cash to pay for Sarah's books (kid's a genius; got full tuition) and to keep herself on her feet. She's so good about taking care of other people that sometimes she forgets to take care of herself.

He slips inside quietly, making sure to lock the door and turn the porch light off behind him. As he creeps into the living room for a glass of milk before bed, he notices that Finn's not on the couch tonight. He's probably crashing at his mom's place. Puck drinks a few gulps of milk straight from the carton before replacing it in the fridge. He goes through the motions, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his coat at the door before heading upstairs. Before ducking into his own room, he pauses to poke his head into Sarah's room. At the back of his mind, he's been worrying about her all night.

Her bedroom walls are all purple and there's still a Leonardo DiCaprio poster on the walls from her pre-teen obsession days. She's in bed, though. Alone. Which is a relief. Puck closes the door softly and then stops at his mother's door. It's open, and there's actually a light on in there. That's unusual, but not entirely surprising. His Ma used to sit up waiting for him to get home when he was a teenager (and she wasn't working late at the hospital). "Nice to see you, Noah," she murmurs, taking off her glasses and setting her book aside.

For his part, Puck looks slightly ashamed. "Sorry I'm so late, Ma. I was just…"

She waves him off and rolls over. "Santana told me." Of course she did. Puck shakes his head. "Turn off the light when you go?"

He does, but hesitates a little in the doorway. After a couple seconds, he takes a couple quick strides into the room and leans down to kiss his Ma on the forehead. "Love you." She just smiles, mumbles that she loves him, too, and tells him to go to bed. He does so without complaint. Puck always was kind of a momma's boy.

His own room is dark. That's doesn't surprise him. It is pretty late. He does his best to undress quietly, though he trips over one of his baseball trophies and swears under his breath in the process. He throws his clothes in the hamper and sinks down on the bed carefully. He doesn't want to accidentally sit on her or wake her up. Santana's cranky when people wake her up. This bed is really too small for him, and when he tries to cram in here with a girl it's nearly impossible. It's pretty roomy, tonight, though. And cold.

She isn't there.

* * *

_Finn's phone rings. He goes to answer it, and Puck fixes him with an eyeroll and mouths 'whipped' across the room at him. Finn looks torn for all but a second before letting it ring, eyebrows raising. They go back to their game. "I'm still gonna kick your ass," Puck says, choosing Mario, as usual. Finn goes straight for Yoshi. They're set to race on Rainbow Road when Puck's cell phone rings, blaring out Katy Perry's Peacock. "San set it," he mumbles by way of explanation, leaning over to read the screen while the game begins._

_It's Santana's name flashing on the screen. Finn guesses this and smirks, taking the lead right off the gate. "And you say I'm whipped…" Puck wavers for a split second before letting it ring. If it's really important she'll call again. She doesn't, and Puck beats Finn five out of seven times._

_Later, as Finn's on the phone telling Rachel he'll be home soon, Puck checks his own messages. He's got two text messages from Mike Chang, one from Artie, and three from Brittany. The first one is asking for sex, and the next is an apology because she got his number mixed up with Artie's. And then the third is an invitation for a threesome, 'but only if San says it's okay. Actually, she can come, too.' Puck chuckles. He can't wait to tell Santana that one. She'll get a kick out of that._

_He goes to check his voicemail, quickly hitting the right buttons to hear Santana's message. At first, she doesn't say anything at all. He thinks she just let the call go too long when she meant to hang up. But then he hears her long exhale and imagines that she's pushing her hair out of her face in that way she tends to do. Her voice follows, sounding a little raspy like she's sick or has been crying. Except Santana doesn't cry (much) and if she is, he feels pretty bad about ignoring her call to prove a point. "Puck, it's me. I wanted to tell you before…" Her words trail off lamely, and when she picks up again, she's changed her mind about what to say. "I can't…do this. I'm done." She hangs up, and Puck is left staring blankly at the screen. His stomach has dropped ten feet into the floorboards and his brows are furrowed. _

_What does she mean by done? He almost thinks she meant to tell him something else but decided against it at the last second. He wishes he could've been there, in person, to see her expressions and hear her voice. He'd always been able to tell when she was lying or hiding something from him. He'd been able to do that since they were six and she lied to him about how she'd gotten her knee all scraped up. Apparently, Azimio didn't like that she was hanging out with Noah because 'girls had cooties'. _

_He'd shoved Azimio into the chainlink fence on the way to school two days later._

"_Dude?" He looks up, then, meeting Finn's gaze. He looks completely confused and a little concerned. "What's up?"_

"_I don't know," he says truthfully, snapping the phone shut and cutting off the voicemail lady's message. "I think Santana just broke up with me." Finn's eyebrows arch towards his hairline and he reaches over to pat his shoulder a little awkwardly. They're guys. They don't do this feelings crap. Neither of them talk about this tomorrow._

_Puck finds Santana at her locker before school. He says nothing, but looks at her expectantly. She's prepared. She pulls a piece of paper from her bag and hands it to him. "The fuck is this?" He complains, but glances down at it anyway. It's an acceptance letter to The University of Chicago. He shrugs and hands it back to her. "So? The reunion sex on breaks will be awesome."_

_She shakes her head and turns away from him, working on getting her locker open. He notices that her hand is shaking. It's the same locker she's had since freshman year. It sticks a little. He used to have to open it for her, until she got the hang of it. Puck steps around her and forces it open now. Santana doesn't thank him or even really acknowledge that he's opened it. She just grabs her books as usual and closes it again, leaning back against the lockers and looking at the spot just over his left shoulder. "I know you. You won't last two weeks if I'm not there to keep an eye on you." _

_That stings a little. They've been together a little over three months now. That's not too long, he knows, but that's a long time for him. And he's never once gone after another girl. Well, okay, there was that one time at after-prom where everyone got shitfaced and he kissed Rachel after she made him sing this horribly off key karaoke duet, but that wasn't even his fault. He'd apologized for it a million times, to Santana and Finn. "Bullshit," he mumbles, stepping towards her. Brown eyes reluctantly flick up to meet hazel, and he holds her gaze. "I know you, too, and I can tell when you're keeping something from me. Spill."_

_Santana takes a breath and steels herself. This is going to hurt her almost as much as it hurts him. She doesn't know how else to get him off of her back. Putting on her best bitch-face, she shrugs and says "You're not the kind of guy someone marries, Puck. We're going to graduate and I'm going to go to college and get a good job. You'll go to college, either drop out or transfer back home, and make minimum wage. What I need as a woman is financial support, and you can't give me that." Before he has a real chance to process what she's just said, she slips past him and saunters away, flipping her hair as she goes._

_When she's a safe distance down the hallway, and Brittany has latched onto her pinky as her security blanket, she tosses a glance back at him over her shoulder. He looks stunned. She doesn't miss how he punches a locker when he thinks she isn't looking or the bandages on his hand the next day._

_He goes back to being McKinley's resident player. That reassures her that she's done the right thing, even if a little voice at the back of her head tells her otherwise. She goes back to her usual routine of Cheerios, Glee club, and messing around with Brittany. There's something missing, though, and it's all too obvious that the thing she's missing has a mohawk._

* * *

Santana is standing in Sheetz with a cup of coffee and cash in hand to pay for gas. Her car barely made it to Finn's place this morning, so before heading back to Puck's she made a pit stop. Finn pops up at her side holding a large, grape slushie. She scoffs. "I thought I told you to wait in the car." Sometimes, hanging out with Finn Hudson is like babysitting a child. He just shrugs and grins, tipping the slushie towards her. It has no lid, reminding her of their high school days, and it slops over the edge and hits the space between their shoes. Santana glares at him. It's not like she's wearing good shoes, but still. "Are you twelve?"

"I figured it might help Puck remember some." Her eyes soften, just slightly, but she rolls them when Finn takes a gulp from the slushie. A sheepish smile crosses his face. "Okay, I kind of wanted one. But I'll get him one, too, if you think it'll help." He sounds doubtful. Puck already remembers that part of high school, anyway. What he really thinks will help is a whole Glee club reunion. They could sing medleys of all the performances they did and maybe he'd remember something. Some of those songs were really important. He still gets a little sentimental whenever he hears _Lean On Me_.

Santana pays for her gas and her coffee and then makes Finn pay for his own damn slushie. He isn't twelve. Hell, he's barely a friend. She's not paying for empty calories. They get in her car and Santana takes the route to Puck's house without even really having to think about it. She knows this town like the back of her own hand. She knows the way to Puck's house like the back of _his_hand.

Halfway there, Finn leans across to flick the radio on. Journey starts crackling over the speakers and his eyes light up in a childlike way while he belts out half of _Don't Stop Believin' _and looks at her expectantly when the part Rachel usually sings with him comes on. Santana's quiet. It might've been a Finn-and-Rachel thing, but the last time she'd performed this song it'd been with Puck.

_For a smile they can share the night. It goes on and on and on and on…  
_

* * *

"You realize it's noon, right?"

"You realize I got in at three in the morning, right?" He doesn't even bother lifting his head from the pillow, rolling over and facing the wall instead. Sarah won't be put off, though. She's been dealing with his crap forever. Pushing off from the doorway, she crosses the room in a few quick strides, snatches the blanket between her fingers, and yanks it from the bed in one swift motion. Her brother groans and complains, curling into a ball and still not looking at her. Shrugging, she grabs his pillow next and promptly hits him over the head with it.

"Rise and shine, Noah." Sarah takes the comforter and pillow with her when she leaves the room, leaning her head back inside his bedroom to add "Ma made waffles." before she goes. That's what gets him to haul himself to a hunched, but still technically seated, position. Puck blinks, rubbing sleep from his eyes and moving his fingers to his forehead, trying to weed out the pesky headache that hasn't really left him since…

His train of thought derails briefly, but then he remembers. He's had an accident and Sarah and Santana and Finn are all back in Lima to try and help him get over it. Methodically, Puck pulls on a fresh pair of jeans and an old McKinley t-shirt that's almost too small now. After going to take a piss and brushing his teeth, he shuffles down the stairs and into the kitchen just in time to see Finn and Santana pull up in front of the house. Frowning, Puck heads straight for the coffee pot and pours himself a mug. He takes a swig without bothering to add cream or sugar, and winces at the bitterness. He downs another gulp, though.

Sarah arches her brows at him from behind a bowl of Lucky Charms. "Since when do you drink coffee?" He shakes his head, willing the stuff to work faster. He's still sluggish and tired, but not from having slept late. He's starting to feel the aches of his fall, the sting of the burns, the harshness of the world when not dulled by pain medication. He feels _everything_, and it's a lot more brutal than he remembers.

Finn swoops into the kitchen first, steals a waffle from Sarah's plate, and flops down in a vacant chair. His mouth's still half-full when he speaks. "Hey, man, feeling any better today?"

"Feel like shit," Puck responds, and Finn swallows the mouthful of waffle to blink at him.

"That's probably a good thing. Rachel always says that you can't really recover from anything without feeling it." Santana scoffs and barely enters the room, leaning against the doorframe and giving the kitchen a once over. Puck notices that she's avoiding looking at him and is probably wondering where his mother is. After a beat, she speaks.

"Still quoting The Hobbit, Hudson?"

"She's not a Hobbit!"

Ignoring his two best friends' arguing, Puck turns to rinse out his mug. When he's done, he heads for the door. Instead of leaving, he stops right in front of Santana so that they're almost touching. He's looking down at her, standing with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. His jaw is set, though. Santana automatically tips her chin up in defiance.

They stare at each other for a second. It's quiet, except for Finn biting into a piece of toast.

She breaks first. "_What_?"

"Why'd you break up with me?"

"Probably because your only income was cleaning pools."

Puck shakes his head adamantly. "No, I mean that last time. Senior year."

Shit. He remembers._  
_


	9. through rows of speeding cars

**Author's Note: **There, that wasn't so bad. This chapter features special guest Brittany who I really do enjoy when she's not written as a child. So, enjoy.

* * *

**8. run with me through rows of speeding cars**

Santana bobs her head in the HBIC way she never quite gave up and purses her lips. He's going to have to elaborate. She doesn't know how much he knows. She only knows how much he _doesn't_ know because she'd never told him in the first place. If it all came flooding back like her _Papi_said it might, Puck's going to be pissed. He's been pissed ever since she ended it Senior year. Whenever they're both back in town for holidays or birthdays, it's awkward and charged and sometimes she just wants to pin him up against the wall and fuck him right-

…but she never does. She ended it years ago and she can't let herself fall back into his arms so easily. She'd feel too guilty. Besides, it would probably end the same way it always does. He'd try and push his luck and screw her over by screwing someone else. Santana's not prepared to deal with that pain again. He'd done it with Quinn once and Rachel once. The only thing that could possibly hurt worse would be if he cheated on her with _Brittany_.

She'd want to kill them both if that ever happened. Santana never _was _one for sharing.

She's trying to ignore the fact that the _last_ time, he hadn't screwed up at all. He'd just screwed her and it was _good_.

"Well?" Puck breaks the heavy silence that has settled over the room. Sarah's already slipped out behind Santana to avoid the confrontation. Even Finn is staring at them now, his half-eaten toast sitting on his plate in front of him. "What happened between us?"

Santana meets his steady gaze with a glare of her own, tossing her hair angrily. Puck's lips twitch faintly with a memory of her doing that while wearing a cherry red cheerleading uniform. "Let's start with this. What do you remember?"

"Everything," he says, and Finn whoops with excitement. Both Puck and Santana turn to look at him and he falls quiet, sinking down into his seat and leaning across the table to finish Sarah's abandoned chocolate-chip waffles.

"Care to elaborate?"

Puck rolls his eyes. "_Everything. _You letting me get to second base at my Bar Mitzvah and you in that fucking poofy princess dress. Losing our virginity in the Fabrays' basement a couple months later." With each moment he sites, he takes a step closer until he has Santana backed against the kitchen counter. She tries to slide away but he puts a hand on either side of her, fencing her in. She's pissed. She hates being trapped. "Taking you to Homecoming freshman year. Spending the summer at the Johnsons' pool." His voice drops and he glances off to the side. "Cheating on your with Q. Having a _kid_ that I never see. Rachel. _Everything_."

By now, he's leaning down and his lips are just inches from hers. Santana can't help the burning urge to slap him in the face for invading her personal space or the equally strong one to just kiss him again. She does neither, just pushes against his chest and tries to escape. Finn clears his throat behind them. "Uh, guys? Shouldn't we be, like, celebrating or something?" They're quiet, trading glares and frowns. Finn puts his fork down and turns to leave. "I'll just, uh, leave you guys alone, then."

"Nah," Puck finally says, stepping away from Santana enough so that she can dart towards the door. His gaze is heavy on her, though, so she doesn't bolt. He's got her frozen in place again. "San and I are gonna take a walk. You can stick around. I'll probably need someone to drink with later." He reaches out to bump Finn's fist lightly and then heads into the hallway, slipping on his sneakers and leather jacket as he goes.

Finn shoots Santana a bemused glance. She just shakes her head, sets her jaw, and follows Puck out of the house. They walk shoulder-to-shoulder in the direction of the 7/11. For a while, neither of them say anything at all. They just walk and Santana can't help but notice the way he slows his pace to match hers (he's taller than she is, after all) or how their shoulders are close to touching or how his fingertips periodically brush hers before he slides his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

Meanwhile, since she'd taken off from Cleveland like a bat out of hell, she hadn't even brought many changes of clothes, much less a jacket. When she'd stopped at her parents' house last night, Santana had found some spare clothes that still fit, but when she was younger, she usually just stole boys' jackets and her Cheerios one was nowhere to be found. Santana wraps her arms loosely around herself and chews her bottom lip, waiting for him to say something. She doesn't want to be the one to break the silence, but it's starting to drive her insane. "So, out with it, Puckerman."

Puck looks at her for the first time since they left the house, eyes soft and open for the first time in forever. Santana has seen him vulnerable like that before, like when he gave up his daughter or when he'd stepped up Senior year to get her back. He always used to fade right back to his hard outer shell, though. This is unfamiliar and she blames the head trauma. Hopefully, he'll be back to normal soon. That might mean he wants nothing to do with her anymore, though. Santana's not so sure how she feels about that.

Puck shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders instead. Santana is hit with the rush of familiarity, the smell of smoke from the cigarettes and a smell that's just very _Puck_. She can't help but tuck herself into the warmth of the jacket, inhaling deeply and praying that he thinks she's just shivering from the cold. "I want to know why."

She sighs loudly. "If you remember, you remember why."

Santana's stopped walking. So has Puck. They're both standing in the middle of the street staring at each other. There's an obvious space between them, even if she's wearing his jacket. He's got both hands buried in the pockets of his jeans and his shoulders are slumped against the chill. "Because I'm _not marriage material_," he growls, his eyes immediately going to her left hand. Santana pulls both hands into the too-long sleeves of his jacket, but Puck already knows there's no ring there. "Which is bullshit."

She shrugs and starts walking again. "I broke up with you because we were going to different schools. Without me there to keep an eye on you, you'd have cheated on me within a month."

Puck's still standing still, watching her with narrowed eyes. After another second, his legs start working again and he takes several quick strides to meet up with her. He puts a hand on her shoulder and spins her around to face him. Santana's positively furious. "Don't _touch_me, Puck." It didn't hurt, not really, and he's only lightly gripping her shoulders as he ducks his head to catch her eye.

"I _know_you, San." Hazel eyes are boring into hers intently. She fights the urge to look away and glares right back at him. "I've known you forever. I can tell when you're lying." Santana has the annoying urge to kiss him again, but pushes that thought to the back of her mind and sets her face in a determined expression.

"I didn't tell you then. What makes you think I'd tell you now?"

"So there _is_a reason!"

Santana shakes free of his grasp and starts down the road again, turning her back on him. "There's always a reason."

* * *

_It's Mr. Schuester's seventh period study hall. Half the glee club is present, as usual. Finn, Puck, and the boys are seated at one large, round table making paper airplanes and throwing them at people. One of Mike Chang's almost floors Rachel Berry. Meanwhile, the two of the Cheerios are sitting on top of the desk on the other side of the room. Quinn's reading something for History class and Santana's doing her nails. They're going to be black instead of red this time. Quinn notices. "What, no red?"_

_Santana simply shrugs, looking across the room at Puck from beneath her lashes. He looks up at about the same time and throws her a crooked half-smile that's more genuine than his usual Puckerman smirk. She can't help but smile back, though it's not as wide as it should be. Puck doesn't notice because Finn's just hit him in the back of the head with an airplane and now Puck's trying to put him in a headlock._

_Quinn does, though. She raises a brow skeptically and closes her textbook. She says "Is something wrong?" in a tone that really says 'I know there is so spill.'_

_She's quiet as she applies polish to her pinky nail, being meticulous about not getting it on her skin. She finishes and holds her hand out to let the polish dry. "I got into U of Chicago." Quinn's other eyebrow arches up to meet its twin._

_"So?" The blonde peers over at Puck, who's now leaning over something Finn's written on a scrap of paper. "He's been good lately."_

_"…I know."_

* * *

_"Hey, babe." Puck meets her at her locker and leans in to kiss her. She turns at just the right moment so he only get the corner of her mouth instead. His brows furrow for a second before he shrugs it off and leans against the lockers. "My Ma wanted to know if you wanted to come over for dinner after practice. Your parents and Carlos are supposed to be going."_

_Santana methodically gets her books from her locker and drops them into her bag, checks herself out in the mirror, and redoes her ponytail. She ignores the way Puck pulls at her hair to try and steal the elastic and expertly ties her hair up anyway. "Sorry. Can't."_

_"Oh." Puck frowns. "Why not?"_

_"Britt's failing Spanish. I'm tutoring her tonight so she can pass the final and graduate."_

_He blinks. He knows what Santana's form of 'tutoring' is. She's been tutoring him in Spanish since about the ninth grade, and they never get much studying down. He can't really help it. Her speaking Spanish is a total turn on and he can't help it if she somehow ends up on top of him half the time. "…when you say 'tutoring'…"_

_Santana rolls her eyes at him in the mirror hung up in her locker while she touches up her lip gloss for practice. "I mean just tutoring, Puck. If you can't make-out with other girls, neither can I." He looks momentarily satisfied._

_"Well, do you want to come by after you're done tutoring?" Puck's words are suggestive and he's wearing his usual smirk._

_Santana closes her locker with a 'snap'. "Can't. She's so far behind I'm gonna have to sleepover." She catches the worried expression cross Puck's face and caves, leaning in to brush her lips lightly over his. "Look, it's nothing. Britt knows we can't do that anymore, okay?"_

_"…okay. I'll see you tomorrow?"_

_"Yeah, tomorrow."_

* * *

_Brittany's little sister opens the door and squeals before throwing herself around Santana's middle. "San! I missed you." She looks over her shoulder and yells up the stairs. "Britt! Santana's here!"_

_Brittany comes down the stairs in her duck-printed pajamas, hair tied back, and carrying a box of Kleenex. "Oh, San! I didn't know you were coming o-" Her words are cut off by a sneeze and she sniffles a bit, swaying a little on the stairs. "…I'm sick."_

_Santana closes the door behind her and raises her brows. "I see that. You weren't in school today." She holds up a bag full of DVDs, a couple cans of Campbell's soup, and a stuffed duck. Brittany smiles a little sleepily and accepts the duck, tucking it up into her arms and declaring that she's naming him Ballad._

_"That was real nice of you, San." Britt coughs into the stuffed animal's fur. "But I don't think you should stay. I wouldn't want you to get sick and then get Puck sick because you kiss him." Santana chuckles quietly and stops at the foot of the stairs._

_"It's okay. I took some Airborne before I came over. Besides, somebody needs to take care of you."_

_"Jamie was."_

_"Jamie's seven." Brittany just shrugs and starts back up to her room on shaky legs. Santana follows a few steps behind in case she passes out._

_A few minutes later, they're both tucked up in Britt's bed with a pillow-barrier between them at Brittany's insistence. It's annoying, because for once in her life Santana actually wants to cuddle (though, if she's honest, she'd prefer it with a certain mohawked boy), but she says nothing as the credits for Mean Girls play. "So, what's going on?" Santana blinks. Some people think Brittany's an idiot, but like Finn Hudson, she sees more than people give her credit for. And she knows Santana._

_"What d'you mean?" Santana pops an Oreo into her mouth and chews thoughtfully, snorting at something on TV._

_"I mean, why aren't you with Puck right now?" Santana mentally curses. If two of her oldest friends can tell something's up, Puck probably can, too. She shrugs._

_"U of Chicago and OSU aren't exactly close."_

_Brittany giggles and leans over the pillows, propping her chin there and looking at her best friend. "Puck's, like, in love with you. He won't do anything stupid this time." She nods knowingly. "I talked to him."_

_Santana's eyes widen just slightly. "What'd you say to him?"_

_"Nothing. Just not to hurt you again because you're like a pineapple." When Santana's forehead wrinkles, Brittany adds, "Prickly on the outside but soft inside. He won't do it again. He promised." Santana bats the pillows away so she can pull Britt into a hug, germs be damned. She protests at first but ends up relaxing into it while they watch the movie._

_About halfway through, Puck calls Santana to ask if she'll be at his game tomorrow. "I can't," she says, and Brittany coughs at the perfect time. "I'm sick."_

* * *

When Puck gets home, he grabs his car keys and tells Finn they're going out. His friend doesn't protest and soon, they're both sitting at the Lima Tavern with two empty shot glasses each. Puck's turning his upside down whenever he finishes a shot of Jack Daniels and tries not to think about the time he tried to convince Quinn to name their kid that. Sure, it'd get his mind off of Santana for two seconds, but Beth isn't something he likes to think about much at all, much less when he's angry and on the verge of getting drunk.

"So," Puck drawls, looking down at Finn's hand as he spins a silver wedding band on the bar-top. "You're not married yet and didn't invite me, are you?"

Finn chuckles and clamps a hand over the ring, letting it spin to a halt and shaking his head. He's got his palm flat over it and closes his fist over it. "Nah. It was my Dad's." Puck nods and punches Finn's shoulder lightly, ordering up a couple more shots and two beers. At least they can afford something other than Natty Light now.

"Where you guys getting hitched?"

"Central Park. …you're best man, remember?"

"Yep. Rach's already called me fifty times about not making your bachelor party too 'inappropriate'."

They're avoiding the subject. It's the first time Puck's spoken since they entered the bar. He throws back his shot and opens his beer, taking a quick swig and looking Finn up and down. "You don't know why, do you?"

Finn shakes his head. "Naw, man. I don't think _anybody_does. Did you try asking Britt?"

Puck looks thoughtful and flips open his cell phone. He doesn't have Brittany's cell phone number anymore, but he does have the number to the apartment she shares with Santana. Her _Papi _had given it to him for emergency purposes. He hits call and turns around on his barstool, facing the door. The phone rings once, twice, three times before the answering machine picks up. It's a mix of Brittany and Santana's voices, cutting each other off every now and then.

_Hey, you've reached Brittany-_

_And Santana._

_We're not here-_

_-or are screening our calls._

_So you can leave a message and we'll get back to you-_

_-if you're important enou-_

"Hello?" Brittany answers the phone breathlessly. "San? That you?"

For a second, Puck is silent. It feels like he's sixteen again, calling up Brittany's house when he and Santana are fighting and she won't answer his calls on her cell. "Hey? Is anybody there? I'm hanging up in three, two o-"

"Britt? It's Puck."

She squeals. "Oh, Puck! You're okay, then? Do you remember who I am? Santana's not here, you know."

He can't help the laugh that escapes him as he rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, I know. She's back in Lima trying to help me remember stuff."

"Well, d'you remember now? Like, do you remember my middle name? Or who my idol is?"

Puck pictures Brittany sprawled out across a couch in Santana's living room instead of in an apartment in Cleveland. "Sure. It's Susan. And you love Ke$ha." She claps on the other end of the phone and Finn chuckles.

"Who's that?"

"Finn."

"Hi, Finn!"

"Hey, Britt!"

Puck sets the phone on the counter and puts it on speaker. Some of the other people in the bar at two p.m. on a Monday look annoyed, but Joe says nothing. "So, why are you calling if you don't forget anything? Is Santana okay?" Puck doesn't really know how to answer that question without lying, so he doesn't.

"I was just wondering about something. Y'know how San broke up with me Senior year?"

"Uh-huh."

"D'you know why?" Brittany is quiet. Brittany's almost _never_quiet, so Puck knows something's up. "Britt?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, what?"

"Yeah, I know why. But I can't tell you. That's San's business, Puck. And I promised." Puck groans and flips the phone back off of speaker and puts it to his ear.

"Britt, I'd really like to- Hold on." His phone vibrates and he leans back to see _one new text message from SANTANA._ Blinking, he opens it to find _remember the time we ran away? _He figures she might've been drinking, too. They used to do that together, when things went bad.

"Puck? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, sorry Britt. If you can't tell me I gotta go."

"Okay. Can you send San back soon? I'm lonely here."

"Bye, Britt."

"See you."

Finn stands up. "Where're you going?"

"To see Santana. You can stay here or go back home, but I gotta do this alone."

* * *

This ladder is a lot shakier than he remembers. Puck climbs the little rope-ladder up to the tree-house in his backyard. His Dad had started building it for him when he was eight, and Santana's _Papi _had finished it the following year. When they were younger, Santana had claimed partial ownership to it because of that. He thinks she must be up here.

When he pulls himself up through the hole in the floor, he takes a look around. It's pretty shabby now, since even Carlos and Sarah have grown out of using it. There are some posters on the walls, Enrique Iglasias (San's) and the Cincinnati Reds (Puck's) among some other things. At one point, they tried to hook electricity up here so they could watch TV and play videogames, but their mothers had refused. Santana's curled up in one corner, huddled in his jacket. It's really cold up here, actually.

"Santana?"

"Hey," is all she says. "I guess I can tell you now. I feel guilty enough."

"Did you cheat on me? Because that doesn't really matter. I did it enough times to you." He sinks down the wall to sit across from her, his foot nudging her side.

She shakes her head and pulls his jacket more tightly around her. "No, I didn't do that, Puck."

"How many did you have to drink, babe?"

"I was pregnant."


	10. none of us were angels

**Author's Note: **Here you go, guys. With bonus characters.

* * *

**9. none of us were angels**

_It's sixth period, right after lunch. She's decided to do this now because there's literally no chance of him walking in on her. Even if this is the girls' bathroom, that means nothing to Puck. He's been in here before and if he thought something was wrong, he wouldn't let something as stupid as a sign keep him away. And Santana knows that he's getting suspicious. She and Puck have math sixth period and, pre-Calc or not, Puck still doesn't attend the class regularly. It's his designated 'beauty nap' period._

_So she's safe._

_She walks down the hall with her head held high, shooting Jacob Ben Israel a glare as she passes. He sputters something about a hall pass and she flips him off instead. Jewfro's been on her ass since last year, starting that ridiculous boob job rumor and spreading it like wildfire. But after Puck had a little talk with him, he hasn't bothered her once. Having one of the most feared kids at McKinley as her boyfriend has its perks._

_Pausing at her locker, Santana re-applies her lip gloss and looks herself over in the mirror. She looks a little paler than usual, but otherwise nothing's changed. Glancing left, then right, she makes sure no one's looking before grabbing the box and shoving it into the pocket of Puck's letterman jacket. She still has her Cheerios one somewhere, but she's taken to wearing Puck's ever since he awkwardly presented it to her after Glee club one day. It's huge on her and hangs way past her hands if she doesn't roll up the sleeves, but it smells like him. It's somehow comforting._

_Santana heads to the bathroom and locks herself in a stall in a robotic motion, takes off her spanks (but not the skirt) and takes out the box, squinting at the directions before ripping it open and staring accusingly at the little stick. It's ridiculous that pissing on it is going to determine her plan and, quite possibly, her future. Sighing, she looks at the ceiling and takes the test, setting it on the toilet paper dispenser while she pulls up her spanks and flushes the toilet. The box says it's supposed to take two minutes._

_It's the longest two minutes of her life._

_She gets out of the stall and takes the pregnancy test with her, perching on the counter beside it and examining her fingernails. The black's already beginning to chip off. Maybe she'll apply a new coat in study hall next period. The door creaks open and Santana scrambles for the test. In her hurry, her hands send it flying off the counter and onto the floor._

_Someone in a Cheerios uniform stops dead in her tracks._

_Santana might've been safe from Puck, but of course Brittany would come looking for her. Usually, the Cheerios go to the bathroom in packs. When Britt saw Santana passing her remedial Algebra class, she'd taken it as a sign to meet her. Brittany blinks while she crouches down to pick up the stick. "…what's this for?"_

_They weren't there the first time Quinn took a pregnancy test, but they were there the time she went through six of them and a gallon of orange juice in a half an hour trying to prove the first two tests wrong. Brittany knows what it's for, but she also knows that Santana's not like Quinn. She's smart. Even if the guy did use a condom, she's on the pill. 'Trust me' certainly isn't an effective form of birth control._

_Santana exhales a little shakily and rubs her temples. "I'm late."_

_"Oh," is all Brittany says. It's quiet for a second before she asks "What's a pink plus sign mean on this kind of test?" Her tone suggests she knows just what it means. Santana grits her teeth._

_"It means I'm pregnant."_

_"Cool. What're you and Puck gonna name it?" Santana appreciates that Brittany doesn't have to ask if it's Puck's or not. Obviously it's his. The bright-eyed look on her best friend's face makes it hard to say what she has to._

_"I'm not keeping it."_

_"Oh." Her face falls instantly and Santana has to try really hard not to imagine the expression Puck will be wearing when she tells him the same thing. Her next words are "Don't tell him."_

_"Okay."_

_"You have to promise."_

_"Pinky swear, San." In Brittany's world, that's like swearing on her life._

* * *

Puck stares at her. He's sure he's heard her wrong. He hasn't had _that_ much to drink, but he's had enough shots to be a little buzzed. He'd thought the walk over here had sobered him up. Apparently not. His eyes are blank. "You're drunk," he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. Santana just shakes her head silently and keeps staring at her hands in her lap. The too-long sleeves of his leather jacket are covering them and she's soon tucking her arms around herself. She looks really small, then, and Puck has the simultaneous desire to scream at her and wrap her up in his arms.

He does neither.

"I have _another _kid who doesn't know me?" Puck's voice is deadly calm, and Santana has known him well enough to know that he's really pissed off right now but trying not to be for her benefit. Or maybe he's just still trying to process it. Either way, he isn't as calm as he's trying to pretend he is. The questions are escaping him before he can stop himself. "Is it a boy or a girl? How old are they now? Don't they ever ask about me?" His voice is getting more hysterical which each question, his tone louder. The last one is back to a normal volume, but the words are laced with disappointment. "_Why didn't you tell me?_"

Santan hangs her head dejectedly and mutters something into her knees. Puck rolls his eyes and leans forward to grab her chin. She flinches away from his touch, not because he's _hurting _her (he never would, at least not physically), but because she's ashamed of what she has to say. "I can't hear you. What'd you say?"

She lifts her head to meet his eyes for the first time since the conversation turned, and Puck's surprised to see tears building on her lashes. Santana Lopez almost never cries, and definitely not in front of him. The few times she did, it'd been mostly his fault and he felt terrible about it. The urge to hold her is even stronger now and he crosses his arms to keep himself from submitting to it. When she finally says it, her voice is thick with emotion.

"Because I never had it."

The words hang in the air for a moment. Puck's brows furrow and he stares at her for a second before it dawns on him. He takes his hand away from her face and leans back against the wall of the tree-house, look up at the ceiling vacantly. This is what she'd been afraid of in the first place. His face crumples and he runs a hand over his eyes, scrubbing at nonexistent tears. He looks so _broken_ and it hurts Santana that _she's _the one who made him look like that.

Back in high school, she'd resented Quinn for putting him through so much crap. She led him on, wouldn't let him own up to his mistakes, and eventually just left him for a guy with a Bieber-cut and big lips without explanation. If she's honest, though, Santana thinks that giving Beth up for adoption was the one thing Quinn Fabray got right. She and Puck were way too young and way too different to raise a baby. But this is different. Even if Quinn hadn't told him, Puck knew about Beth. He'd never known about this, and he never got to say goodbye.

Puck brings his gaze to hers and is back to his fake-calm voice. "Why didn't you _tell _me?"

"I couldn't be Quinn Fabray, Puck. I had my whole future in front of me." Santana sounds a lot more sober when she says that, and Puck just shakes his head before getting to his feet and turning to leave the tree-house. "Wait!" He hesitates in the doorway and gives her a glance. His eyes are hollow and she falters. She knew he'd be upset and now, she doesn't think he'll ever look at her the same way again, like he had Senior year. She screwed it all up.

When she doesn't say anything, Puck steps out onto the little porch. "Wait!" Santana cries again, getting awkwardly to her feet and almost tripping over one of Sarah's old Barbies as she rushes to catch him. "I'm sorry, okay? I should've told you."

Puck nods solemnly. "Yeah, you should've." He shrugs his shoulders lamely. There's nothing either of them can do about it now. He starts down the rope ladder and Santana hiccups, trying to stifle the tears welling up behind her eyes until he's gone. Finn Hudson had once told her she was a 'weepy, hysterical drunk'. He's not entirely wrong. If she's not really horny, she's definitely hysterical.

A mohawked head pops over the edge and Santana swears her heart stops for the briefest second as he watches her. She licks her lips, mentally preparing herself for whatever he's about to say. In her drunken state, she's convinced herself that it's one of two things. Either he's going to forgive her and ask her out again, or he's going to say _screw you_and walk out of her life forever. She's not ready for either of those, so she braces herself the best she can.

What Puck _actually _says is "Are you gonna be able to get down okay since you're drunk and all?"

Santana just nods. He shrugs and disappears again. Once she's checked to make sure he's gone, she lets the tears fall. _  
_

* * *

_The first time she tries to tell him is before Glee club one Tuesday. He stops her with a kiss on the lips and a cheeky grin, telling her that whatever it is can wait until after rehearsal because he has something to show her. Then he goes and plays Gaving-fucking-DeGraw for her. She can't really ruin his life after that, can she?_

_She decides that she can't tell him in person, because the look on his face would kill her. A text is too wimpy. So she's going to call him. _

_The first time, she calls and hangs up because he picked up the phone. She's also decided that she'd be much more comfortable leaving a message. Even when she tries to plan it strategically so he __**should **__be in class or at practice, he answers. They end up talking about stupid stuff like Glee and baseball instead. It's eating her up inside because she knows what she wants to do, but she should give him the chance to explain his side._

_Santana knows Puck. Even if he's not exactly a conservative, she knows he won't want her to get an abortion. Hell, he'll want her to keep it. Puck won't want to lose two babies in two years. She's seen what losing Beth has done to him. She really hates to be the one to screw him over this time, but she can't be Quinn. She just…can't. She has her entire future ahead of her. She will get out of this cow town. She will be a lawyer. She can't do that with a baby on her hip._

_(Her Papi is also somehow under the delusion that she's a virgin, and she knows how disappointed he would be.)_

_Puck's number is three on her speed dial, right after her Ma and Papi, but she dials it out of memory for the umpteenth time. Last time, he'd picked up with too happy a greeting for her to tell him, so she'd just hung up before even saying anything. He probably thinks she's avoiding what he said, but she's not She 'really likes him', too. That's why it's so hard._

_He's playing videogames with the boys, so she's hoping he's too distracted to answer. Santana counts the rings silently and prays for the first time she can remember in…years. The familiar playback of Puck's voicemail isn't comforting. Just hearing his voice makes his stomach churn._

_"You're go for Puck. I'm either not here or ignoring you. Leave a message after the-" Beep._

_"Puck, it's me. I wanted to tell you before…" She's quiet for a few seconds, trying to gather her courage. Her heartbeat is pounding in her ears and she's picturing the broken but somehow determined look on Puck's face when he learns that she's pregnant and not going through with it. Listening to him try to persuade her to keep a baby that's his is the last thing she wants to do. He can be…very persuasive. And she can't let him convince her to change her plans now. She just…can't._

_Gripping the phone with white knuckles, she finally exhales low and sputters out "I can't…do this. I'm done."_

_She hangs up._

* * *

When Puck gets home, Finn's waiting for him in the kitchen. "Hey," he says cautiously, looking up from a plate of Breadstix breadsticks and setting down the one he was eating. "Did you figure out why?" Puck nods, but doesn't say anything else. Instead, he goes straight for his Ma's liquor cabinet and pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniels. He has to try really hard not to think about Beth, then, or the other baby that he never knew about. He pours two shots and when Finn goes to grab one, Puck throws both back. Finn frowns. "…are you gonna tell me?" He waits a beat. "Are you okay, man?"

Puck shakes his head, pours two more shots, and offers one to Finn this time. He takes one and licks his lips. "No."

Finn carefully pries the bottle out of Puck's fingers and sets it off to the side before he can pour anymore shots. Finn's is still sitting on the table and Puck makes a grab for it, but Finn tosses it down before he has the chance. He sputters as the alcohol burns his throat. He's always preferred lighter stuff than his best friend. Puck's lips twitch faintly but he doesn't even smile as Finn practically chokes on a shot of whiskey. Instead, he's pacing the small kitchen and he keeps running his hand through his hair.

"No, what?" Finn finally asks, raising his brows. "No, you're not gonna tell me or no, you're not okay?"

Puck shrugs. "Both." He looks like a caged animal especially now that he doesn't have any alcohol to numb the pain. Finn knows the routine. Puck gets pissed off or hurt, goes drinking, and then the next morning it hurts just as bad. He's not going to let that happen again. Puck takes out his pack of Camels and his Zippo. He lights one up. His Ma would kill him if she knew he was smoking in her house.

"Come on, Puck." He just takes a long drag off of his cigarette and retreats into the living room. Finn follows him after a second and isn't surprised to see _The Breakfast Club _playing on TV and Puck sitting on the couch. Finn plops down next to him unceremoniously and plucks the cigarette from his friend's lips, ignoring the swearing and tossing it into Sarah's forgotten cup of coffee. It floats lamely, extinguished, and Puck reaches for another. Finn steals the entire pack and promptly dumps the rest.

"Fuck you! Those are expensive."

"Right. You're a _firefighter_. Like you don't have enough risk for lung cancer as it is." Puck just shrugs, crosses his arms defensively, and puts his feet up on the coffee table. They're both quiet for a while. Finn speaks again. "Are you okay?" Puck shakes his head. "Are you gonna tell me?" Puck sighs.

"She was pregnant."

For a second, Finn doesn't know what to say. His eyes widen slightly and he quickly looks at the TV so Puck won't notice. He does anyway, but doesn't mention it. "Oh. So she left?"

"She didn't have it."

"…oh." They're quiet. Puck doesn't even smirk when Bender sticks his face up Claire's skirt and that's his _favorite_scene. Finn clears his throat. "That really sucks, man. She probably should've told you." He's waits a beat before adding, "What now?"

"Now." Puck stands up and walks toward the stairs. "We're going back to Columbus."

Finn blinks. He sort of meant _what now_between Puck and Santana, but he doesn't have the heart (or balls) to elaborate now. "Uh, okay. I'll drive since you're drunk." Puck says that he's not drunk but doesn't argue much after that, just disappears upstairs. Finn settles in to watch the movie while Puck packs.

He doesn't have much to take with him. He just wants his jacket and a couple things from his drawers. As he walks into the room, Puck remembers that Santana still has his leather jacket and swears loudly. When he flicks on the light, he finds the jacket sitting on his bed. Blinking, he tugs it on, digs in his bedside table for another pack of cigarettes, and tucks them into his pocket. There, his fingers brush a piece of paper. He pulls it out and looks at the familiar, curvy handwriting on the front. _Puck_.

He almost doesn't want to open it at all, but he knows he'll wonder if he just sets it on fire. So, he unrolls the piece of paper that looks suspiciously like the back of one of his comic books, and reads the message.

_I didn't tell you because I was afraid you'd convince me to keep it. _

Well, that just makes him feel worse.

* * *

_She walks out of the clinic on shaky legs. It was worse than she thought it would be. The procedure itself was quick and the woman who did it was nice, if not too optimistic, but she just feels like she's missing something. She feels about ten pounds lighter, but not in a good way. Her stomach is in knots and she just feels sick because she just took away something that wasn't just hers, but Puck's too._

_The hand on her back is supposed to be reassuring, but Santana can't help but think she's judging. She should've just brought Brittany. Or Rachel. Even if they're not the best of friends, the girl is very pro-Choice and all for women's empowerment. The person she actually asked to pick her up isn't._

_It doesn't matter. She still helps her into the car and buckles her seatbelt, even brushes some hair away from her face and asks if she's okay. She doesn't even look judgmental when Santana says 'no'. Instead, she just gets into the driver's seat and puts on Lady Gaga like they're just going to the mall instead of driving away from Planned Parenthood._

_"Do you think I'm going to hell now?" Santana asks hoarsely._

_"No." Quinn's lips quirk upward very faintly. "All the pre-marital sex has already got you a one-way ticket."_

_Santana stares at her, then laughs quietly. "So that means you'll be joining me?"_

_"Guess so."_

_Silence settles over them and Santana squirms uncomfortably when Billy Joel comes on the radio. Quinn's quick to change it but Santana's already babbling. "You think I'm wrong, don't you?"_

_The blonde sighs and shakes her head vaguely. "You did what you think is best. Even if I don't agree with it…I understand. I did what I did for the same reasons." Santana blinks. "Giving my baby up for adoption after holding her was the single hardest thing I've ever done. Everyone always tells me I'm such a good person for giving her up so she could live a better life, but the truth is, I did it mostly because I'm selfish. I wanted my dreams and my life and a baby wasn't in the cards." Quinn pauses and clicks her tongue. "Besides, if I had an abortion my parents would've really disowned me."_

_"…and what they did wasn't disowning you?"_

_"Well, my mom did take me back eventually."_

_Santana's quiet, but she moves over in her seat to rest her head on Quinn's shoulder. "Hey, Q? Thanks."_

_"Don't mention it. No, seriously, if my mother finds out I even set foot in there, I don't think she'll pay for college."_

* * *

"Britt?"

"San! Puck called me. Are you okay?"

"…I'm drunk."

"Oh. Bad drunk or good drunk?"

"Bad."

"Oh. Does that mean you told him?"

Santana's forehead wrinkles as she tightens her grip on her phone. "…How did you know…?"

"He called me." Brittany shrugs it off. "I wouldn't tell him anything, though. I promised."

Sighing, Santana answers. "Good."

"Yeah." There's a pause. "San?"

"Yeah?"

"He'll forgive you, you know. He really likes you."

"…I'll be home tomorrow."


End file.
